Even When You Fall Apart
by surrendersomething
Summary: Castle/Beckett. It's been six months since they closed the case. Five & a half since he brought her to the Hamptons for the first time. Five since he kissed her for the first time that counted. One week since the trial that ended with a guilty verdict. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Even When You Fall Apart**

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing related to Castle apart from a season one box set. Song lyrics in the title and at the start of every chapter are from "Bloodstained Heart" by Darren Hayes.

**Author's Note: **I started writing this a couple of weeks ago. It's actually pretty much finished bar the epilogue I'm planning, because I have a really bad track record with starting and not finishing multi-chapter stories. I've got six chapters, plus an epilogue (big thank you to Tammy for being my first reader, as usual). Essentially, this is my little foray into life after 'the case' is solved. You all know which one I mean. I don't intend to go into a lot of detail about how the case is solved (mainly because I don't really have a theory, credible or otherwise), but there are flashbacks throughout in italics, which will take us back to some moments during the case. I've taken a few liberties, but I hope they'll pay off. No spoilers to look out for because I don't know anything, and this definitely broke from canon well before 47 seconds and the chaos that has ensued. We all need a little bit of happy, every now and again. As always, I would love to hear what you think.

* * *

**Chapter One**

_You hit me like a subway train, and I will never be the same  
And darling I'll follow you down to the ground_

She stands by the railing at the edge of the decking. She is facing away from him, towards the ocean and the slowly setting sun, but he can see even from his position in the doorway that her arms are not tense, knows even from a distance that her knuckles won't be white from the tightness of her grip on the wooden railing, as he became so used to seeing just a few months ago. Instead, her fingers will be loose, curling around the wood in a hold gentle and reminiscent of everything about her that he's fallen in love with.

The knowledge still eases his heart.

Clad in a loose, flowing white vest that's just sheer enough for him to make out the delicate black strings of the bikini she's had on all day, her hair is flowing freely over her shoulders, curling like it does when she lets it dry naturally. It should remind him of unplanned trips into the Hudson, but it doesn't anymore. Now it only reminds him of when she's fresh out of the shower or reclining on a sun lounger after swimming lengths in his pool.

They've been spending a lot of time in the Hamptons recently, and he didn't think it was possible to love her any more but every time he sees her here, sees how she's learning how to be happy and carefree again, he can't help it. He falls in love with her a little more, every time.

Beneath the white vest, hinting tantalisingly at what's beneath, she wears denim cut-offs that are shorter than he thinks he's ever seen before. Or maybe that's just because her legs go on forever. Whichever it is, he's certainly not complaining. She's barefoot, and he can see her toes curling against the wooden decks as the wind blows.

He could spend all day watching her. All day and more, if he's honest.

"I know you're there, you know." Her voice is soft but strong, carried to him by the wind even though she doesn't turn. She always knows. He's not surprised anymore. He steps out onto the deck now, crossing the short distance to her. She turns round when he's only a step away, and her smile is just for him as his hands settle on her waist. She smells like a summer's evening and he breathes it in, commits it all to memory as she stretches on her tiptoes until she can brush her lips against his, lingering for little more than a second before dropping back to the balls of her feet.

Her actions aren't so considered anymore. She doesn't think things through so much before she does them, especially the quick, affectionate gestures like this that she saves solely for him. She nudges him lightly with her hip, and he realises he's been quiet a little too long as she laughs softly.

"Hi," he breathes eventually, which somehow only makes her laugh a little more as she hooks both arms around his neck. She murmurs the greeting back to him as her lips meet his again, lingering for a little longer this time. He slides a hand to the small of her back, fingers slipping comfortably into the small dip there as her teeth nip lightly at his jaw in approval.

"How's Nikki?" she asks softly, moving slightly to rest her forehead against his cheek. When she's barefoot he revels in the height difference (and she's even told him she likes it too, now and then). There's an incredibly affectionate, feminine side to her, beneath that tough cop exterior. He's been witness to her compassion right from the start, but this is something different. This is all woman, and incredibly private. More people see it these days, but they're still a select few, this group of people that she loves with a fierceness that he wishes he could bottle and hopes he returns. When she has to nudge him out of his thoughts again, it's he who laughs.

She knows him well enough not to hold his lack of focus against him when he's been writing for any length of time. When he writes, he loses himself in the detail. It can be his greatest gift and his biggest curse, all at once. He had looked up from his screen fifteen minutes ago to find with genuine surprise that the sun was starting to set, and it's taking him a while to adjust.

"She's good," he offers eventually, forcing himself to focus on her question as he jostles her slightly so he can move to brush a kiss above her ear. She huffs a little at the movement, tightens her arms around his neck for a moment before eventually moving properly to hook them around his waist. He knows she still struggles to hold them above shoulder height for long periods of time, and he lets go of her waist to settle his palms over her shoulders. She all but melts against him in response. "She was thinking about doing some things that were precisely the opposite of good though," he murmurs against her ear, going back to Nikki and laughing as she lightly pinches the skin at his waist.

"If the things she's thinking about even come _close_ to the things I did last night, you know I'll shoot you," she tells him, though the laughter in her voice does make him question her intent just a little.

"What about the things I did to yo…ouch!" He winces as her fingers pinch sharply. "Apples, Kate," he murmurs against her ear. She laughs softly at that, brushing her lips against his chin as her thumb soothes the skin she pinched.

She doesn't have her gun here, anyway. He's not too scared.

"Have I done that yet?" he questions, finally easing his fingers gently into the muscles of her shoulders to try and ease the soreness that still troubles her. She lets out a cross between a purr and a laugh from somewhere close to his ear, and presses the warmth of her lips to the top of his jaw.

"I don't know," she answers, and he feels her lips curl into a smile that tells him she's got something clever to say. "This is the first book you've written since we've been… together, and I told you I don't want to see the manuscript until it's finished." He laughs, hugging her a little closer. She doesn't sound worried, and that's because he _has_ made her a promise that she will still never be anything more than a muse for Nikki.

When it comes down to it, they're actually just as private as each other.

"I'm glad you're writing." She speaks into the silence eventually, reaching up to tug his hand off her good shoulder, cradling it between them as she works her fingers into the delicate, overused muscles there. It has been a while. He's lost count of the amount of deadlines he missed, and he knows this book will be at least a year behind schedule. It's taken him a few months to settle back into his day job, though, and he knows she worries.

"Missing your next Richard Castle fix?" he asks, light and leering and aiming for nothing more than a laugh from her, which she gives him freely. She always does, these days. When she looks up from his hand to meet his eyes though, hers are sparkling.

"I get those every day," she shoots back, meeting him punch for punch with a voice that's soft, but innuendo-laden. He laughs fully, letting her other shoulder go and bracing his hands on the railing behind her because even now, it feels so good to laugh.

They're not okay yet, but they're getting there and this, the banter and the laughter and the love they have for one another is the first step.

"Oh, good answer," he breathes as the laughter subsides, hauling her back into his arms. "You're never going to stop surprising me, are you?" he asks, lifting a hand to run his fingers down her cheek as her eyes soften completely.

"I hope not," she tells him quietly, her lips finding his jaw again as she speaks. "Because it'll never happen the other way round." He doesn't know what to say to that. She's the only person who really ever manages to leave him speechless, and so he settles for trying to tell her everything he's feeling through the touch of his lips against hers. It's slow and languid and breath stealing, and when she eventually pulls away and drops her forehead against his cheek again, she's panting slightly.

That side to him that's inherently masculine still gets a little kick out of knowing that that's entirely down to him. Only him.

"What time is everyone coming tomorrow?" she asks eventually, her fingers gentle at his waist as she leans back against the railing to look up at him.

"Alexis said she and mother are setting off after breakfast, so they should be here by lunchtime," he tells her, brushing the wild curls behind her ears as she smiles. "Is your dad still doing the same?" She nods, her thumb slipping underneath the thin cotton of his shirt and stroking against the waistband of his shorts. It's barely there, but the intimacy still almost takes his breath away.

"He's an early riser," she's speaking again, with a slight quirk to her lips that tells him she did that absolutely on purpose. She gets a kick out of testing his reactions to her, and he loves her for it. "I wouldn't be surprised if he actually beats Martha and Alexis. He's looking forward to seeing the place," she adds with a proper smile. Jim Beckett has been his biggest champion in this relationship and he knows that when they argue, because that was never not going to be the case, it's to Jim that his daughter turns every time.

Because she _knows_ that he will talk her round.

"So family by lunchtime," he continues with a warm smile, rubbing his hands down her arms as a gust of wind chills her. It's almost dark, but he doesn't want to move quite yet. Not when he can keep her warm enough. "The boys and Lanie and Jenny should be here early afternoon."

"Let's just hope that the four of them in a car goes better than the four of them in a restaurant," she murmurs lightly, laughing even though they both know that the four have actually had a lot of successful double dates now. They're her boys. Even though other people find it odd, he knows that the humour the three share is cop code for affection. They've proven that.

That's not to say that she won't hurt the boys and him when they suggest a triple date, though.

"Sure you're ready to unleash Lanie on this place?" she asks softly, with another nudge of her hip to pull him out of his thoughts. "You were there when she saw the pictures, you know she _will_ want to move in." He laughs, because she is talking about the same night he got _'the talk'_ from her best friend, a talk that was both infinitely sweeter and a hundred times scarier than he was expecting all at the same time.

Yes, he remembers.

"I think I'm ready," he murmurs, laughing. "Anyway, the good Captain said that they would be here mid-afternoon, and I think Jordan was aiming for the same." She shakes her head against him, and he knows that if he could see her face her expression would be incredulous.

"I still can't believe you talked them all into coming," she murmurs. "The look on Gates' face when you invited her was priceless," she adds, laughing. "I couldn't decide if she was going to smack you or tell you to get the hell out of her precinct." He agrees with her wholeheartedly, although he doesn't think she knows that he invited Gates out of the blue like that that just so that she would have something to laugh about. She shivers again, and lays her head against his shoulder when he tightens his arms around her a little.

"Cold?" he murmurs against her hair, smiling as she shakes her head a little.

"I want to stay out here a little longer," she whispers, fisting the back of his shirt gently in her fingers. He slides one hand up to her shoulder to give her the extra warmth he knows she would never ask for, and as he feels her slow, steady breaths against his neck he can't help but let his mind wander back to a scene that will be forever imprinted in his memory as if it were the first chapter of one of his books.

Sometimes he wishes it was, because then they wouldn't have had to live through the rest.

* * *

_Another sniper case. _

_It's the only three words he can think as they work the dizzying case that threatens to spin them all off their axis, yet again. He wonders just how these cases manage to follow them around quite like they do, and he knows he's not the only one. There's a tightness to Esposito's jaw and an unnatural stoicism to Ryan's speech that he knows is reflected in his own off-kilter behaviour. _

_They're all taking it worse this time around. _

_Except, possibly, for Kate. She has grown since the last stalker case, in small leaps and bounds. She has healed a little further, patched herself together a little more. She has coping mechanisms. She has shared some of them with him as they grow closer, because some of the tools her therapist gives her ask for a second person. Some of them need someone to know what's going on and how to respond. _

_He knows that every time she shares, she's showing him her feelings in the only way that she knows how. Every time she stumbles over her words as she asks if he'll help her, there's something shining in her eyes that tells him he's the only one she would ever ask. _

_So in this case, she's coping a little better. Hanging on, by a thread and a couple of hastily scheduled therapy sessions, but hanging on nonetheless. _

_Until the moment he realises that this time, he doesn't have to say _it's about your mother.

_This time, he has to say _it's about you.

_The moment that the words leave his lips, Esposito and Ryan go deadly silent. Kate goes deathly pale, and her eyes slam shut. And then three things happen simultaneously. There is a large, loud commotion by the elevator. A detective yells "Get down!". A shot is fired. _

_As he raises from his crouch behind the desk and the boys holster their guns, he realises that her coping mechanisms will only get her so far. A gunshot in close range in the middle of a sniper case? That's more than enough to send her cowering underneath her desk, particularly when she has her eyes shut with no prior warning. The boys realise what's happened around the same time that he does, and they step up behind him, forming a tight protective circle in a way that only they know how. He crouches back down, extends his hands under the desk to his partner. _

"_Kate," he breathes, stopping well before he touches her. "Take a couple of breaths, there's no danger," he tells her quietly. "Reach out and take my hand." He needs to talk to her, but he knows that the movement, the touch, has to come from her. _

_And eventually she reaches out, catching his fingers in a death grip that's shaking violently. He doesn't say anything else. _

_By the time she manages to take the second hand he extends to her and lets him help her out from under the desk onto worryingly shaky legs, Gates has stepped out of her office and is observing them quietly. He feels the boys tense a little more, their fierce loyalty shining through, but he knows that Kate and her Captain have somehow managed to develop a mutual understanding where just about everyone else has failed. _

_He also knows from one glance at her face that Gates already knows. _

"_My office," she commands quietly, but even though her words are stern her expression is soft. Kate finds the strength from somewhere to nod at the boys, but has to cling onto him to stay upright as they cross the short distance to Gates' office. As he tries to steady her on her collapse into the nearest chair, he thinks he hears the Captain send Ryan for a glass of water, but all he can focus on is the woman struggling to breathe and shaking almost violently next to him and the way it breaks his heart. He lays a hand against her back as she leans forward, arms braced on equally shaky legs and her head dropped low, between her knees. _

_He says nothing. _

_Esposito drops into a crouch in front of her with a hand on the arm of the chair, but he too stays quiet. Just breathes, slow and steady. Eventually, he hears Kate start to catch onto Esposito's breathing pattern, her panic starting to recede, and he moves his hand gently against her back in time with every inhale and exhale. He only glances up when he hears movement. Gates is sitting on the corner of her desk, quietly observing the scene before her, and he swings his eyes round further. It's the door opening that he heard, and he watches as Ryan enters with a glass of water, quickly followed by Lanie. His eyes lock with the ME, and they nod quietly as he rubs his thumb a little more firmly against Kate's back, trying to alert her of Lanie's presence before she startles her. Lanie passes a hand over Esposito's shoulder briefly and takes a seat on the other side of Kate, careful not to touch her. _

_She knows. He didn't have to worry._

_He doesn't know how much time passes in the strange silence that settles over them, their funny little family, but Kate has all but drained the glass of water and is sitting a little straighter in her chair when they're interrupted by a sharp knock on the door that sends her back down over her knees again as she struggles to catch her breath. _

"_Easy, Detective." Gates speaks surprisingly quietly, her words meant for Kate as she gestures for whoever is on the other side of the door to enter. Rick looks up, only to be greeted by an unfamiliar black man in a suit. One glance at the boys tells him they're just as in the dark as he is. "Detectives, I would like you to meet Special Agent in Charge, Marcus Gates, FBI. Marcus," she pauses, and the familiarity there is clear for them all to see. "Detectives Ryan and Esposito," she sweeps a hand in their direction, "Dr Parish, one of our ME's, Detective Beckett," she pauses, but Kate doesn't even lift her head. He eases his fingers against her back a little more, doing the best that he can to help her fight the struggle to control her breathing. "Mr Castle," Gates finishes, with a nod to him. _

"_Detectives, Doctor… Mr Castle," Marcus Gates greets, with a genuine smile at their multitude of titles that suggests it isn't the first time he's heard of them. Gates's husband combines authority with a calm, easy-going manner like it's effortless and somehow Rick already knows that he's going to like this man. "I've heard a lot of good things about you all, although I can't say it's a pleasure to meet you under these circumstances." _

"_I've filled Marcus in on your current case and the implications of its current development," Gates tells them. He had been in so very over his head with Smith, and his secrets had come out not only to Kate, but also to the boys and to Gates. There had been no other option. "I've asked the FBI for their assistance, given the… delicate nature of the case. Beckett," she speaks quietly, the tone of her voice softening considerably as Kate startles a little at her name. "It's your call, Kate. I'll let you and your team run point on this one if you think you can handle it, but I want you to think about taking a step back in the investigation. I'm not asking you to stand down," she adds hastily, feeling the force of their collective glare. "I understand that all of you need to be a part of this, but your safety is most important to me. _All_ of you," she adds. "And if that's the decision that you make, Marcus has bought one of his best agents along to run the investigation with him."_

"_I understand she won't need any introductions here," Marcus Gates adds as the door opens, having gestured with a sharp flick of his wrist. _

"_I try to make it a rule never to work with the same group of detectives twice," comes a distinctly familiar voice. His head snaps up in time with Ryan and Esposito's. _

_Jordan Shaw._

"_Detectives, Mr Castle," she acknowledges, with a nod at the boys and himself respectively. "Seems you're your team is determined to stop all over my best laid rules. Captain Gates, it's a pleasure," she continues, calmly shaking the hand of her boss's wife before finishing. "Kate." _

"_Jordan." When Kate raises her head to greet the other woman she's pressing her fingers into her closed eyes to hold back tears in a gesture that has to hurt, and he does the same into the small of her back. She feels like something close to defeat, but when she leans back into his hand just a little, something inside him glues back together. _

"_Kate, I know this is a personal one. Whatever your decision, I'll respect that." He feels her nod at Jordan's words, and he can tell the moment when their eyes meet. Her whole body goes rigid for a long moment, before she slumps over again, her head in her hands. _

_The silence in the room feels brittle, and when he looks around the room he notices that Lanie is close to tears too. With a quick nod to Esposito he solves that problem, watching quietly as Javier lays a hand on her shoulder, standing tall under the Captain's knowing gaze. Ryan crosses his arms over his chest as his partner moves, defiantly loyal. _

_Both turn their gaze to Kate, and then to Castle after a moment, the concern etched in their eyes when she doesn't look up nothing short of brotherly. He knows that Gates can't be blind to any of this, because somehow, no matter how close the past four years have brought them, they've never felt more like a family than this. _

"_So what's it to be, Detective?" the Captain asks eventually, breaking the silence. There's a long moment where Kate doesn't move, and neither do they. Slowly though, she raises her head, her focus settling on a spot over all their heads. _

"_I want to be there," she says eventually, and it's not until she squeezes, hard, that he even realises she's gripping his hand. "This is _my_ case and I want in. More than in," she adds, her tone firm even though he can feel her shaking. Esposito and Ryan take a collective breath, ready to stand with her in the decision it sounds like she has made. They shoot him surprised, almost betrayed looks when he doesn't move, but there's something in the way she's gripping his hand that makes him wait. Eventually, his patience pays off. "But…" Her voice cracks painfully, and he wants nothing more than to take her in his arms and make it all go away._

_The boys suck in a sharp breath, Lanie sits up a little straighter in her chair, and he finds that he doesn't have a _clue_ what to say. _

"_Then let's get to work."_

_And with five calmly spoken, authoritative words, he knows they all breathe out with one collective thought. Thank god for Jordan Shaw._

* * *

When he manages to drag his mind back to the present, to the warm but shivering woman in his arms, he can't help but let out a shuddering sigh. Her fingers flatten against his back in a silent response, and the simple fact that she doesn't make him speak, that somehow she knows exactly where his mind wandered tells him how far they've come.

It's one of the 'better' memories that they have anyway, although he knows that she doesn't remember very much of the worst day. He fists his fingers in her top as her out of control, panicked breathing flashes through his mind again, and she presses her lips just underneath his jaw, almost sensing that he needs to feel her steady, even breaths against his skin. She feathers a gentle series of kisses along his jaw until he relaxes his hold on her. It's another one of those quiet, intimate gestures that she doesn't think twice about anymore, and it grounds him.

She shivers again, and as he feels it shake her entire body he shifts a little, so her slight frame is shielded a little more by his body. She shakes her head a little until she realises that he isn't moving to go inside, and then he feels her burrow a little further into his arms, like a small animal seeking warmth.

He never imagined that she would be so affectionate, so tactile, back when the only thing he could do was sit on a chair next to her with a hand on her back.

They weren't together, back then.

It's been six months since they closed the case, since they finally caught the people responsible. Five and a half months since he brought her out here to the Hamptons for the first time. Five since he kissed her for the first time that counted. Three, since she went back to work.

One week, since the trial that ended with a unanimous guilty verdict.

They came out to the Hamptons the morning after and have been here all week. She isn't allowed back to the precinct for another week, at least. Her therapist thinks she should tack a third week on the end of that, and he knows that she's actually considering it even though she feels strangely disconnected from the job that she loves. The job that she still loves, even though what she came to do is done.

When all is said and done, she's still a detective. He knows that she always will be.

"Stop thinking so much," she murmurs against his jaw eventually, breaking the silence. He chuckles softly, turning to press a kiss to her temple.

"Thinking about you," he murmurs, laughing as she socks him in the arm. She doesn't like it when he's cheesy, and he does it deliberately to get a smile or a laugh out of her. Most of the time, anyway.

"So if no one's getting here until lunchtime, you're saying we don't have to get up early?" she asks once she's controlled her laughter, tilting her head up to look at him as she goes back to their earlier conversation.

"Why detective," he murmurs, delighting in the spark that flashes through her eyes, "should I infer from that that your intentions tonight are less than pure?"

"What makes you think my intentions are just for tonight?" she teases, laughing at what he can only assume is the look of sheer delight in his eyes. Her fingers settle on his chest as she speaks, and he catches them with his own.

"God, I love you," he murmurs, drawing her hand up so he can press a kiss against her knuckles. Her smile as she whispers the words back lights up her entire face, and he wraps his arms as tight around her as he can.

"You know, there's that bottle of champagne in the fridge that we forgot all about last night," he murmurs against her ear, keeping her close to his body.

"Can't think why," she laughs against his chest, nuzzling into him a little.

"Oh you know exactly why," he counters proudly, revelling in the laughter she continues. "Why don't we head inside and open it while I cook? I'll even make your favourite."

"Are we celebrating something?" she asks softly, hooking her arms around his neck again as she kisses him.

"You know we are."

* * *

Her head is resting in the crook of his elbow as they lie on the couch. He's not paying any attention to the movie playing on the flat screen in front of them, and from the way that her head is tilted slightly towards him and away from the screen, he doesn't think she is either. Her eyes are heavy lidded, but he doesn't think she's quite asleep yet, her breathing hasn't quite steadied enough. Testing her, he runs the pad of his thumb over the soft skin of her shoulder. She lets out a small puff of air, stretches her legs almost imperceptibly and reaches her hand up to tangle her fingers with his, pulling them away from her shoulder a little.

"Sorry," he murmurs, smiling as she wrinkles her nose a little and ends up tucking herself a little closer into his side. She's adorable when she's sleepy and relaxed like this, not that he ever tells her that. He knows that she can probably see it in his eyes, but she doesn't seem to mind and he's wise enough to stop when he's ahead.

"Tickles," she offers sleepily, stretching her legs out so her toes brush against his calf for a moment. He didn't really have this in mind when he designed the living room – in fact, he'd been young and impressionable and the pair of couches that were so big they could double as beds had been fashionable and expensive and he'd just had to have them. As he grew up and re-designed though, the couches stayed. He loves them and Alexis loves them, and he even has a vivid memory of his daughter threatening him in an impressively menacing tone when he remodelled the summer of her seventh birthday and briefly considered new furniture. So, while it's a little more minimalist now, that overriding feeling of comfort and familiarity remains. It's felt like a balm for both their souls every time they've escaped or hidden out here, but somehow he knows that this moment right now, _this_ is why he kept the couches, even if he didn't know it at the time.

"Don't you fall asleep on me now," he tells her, running his thumb along her knuckles soothingly. It's the same trick she used out on the deck earlier, the same one that she has learnt to use on the rare occasions when a writing binge has hit him. Her fingers go satisfyingly limp in his hand as she shifts a little again.

"Not," she mumbles, a smile crossing her lips. "Just resting. I've got plans for you, remember?"

"Oh, I remember," he laughs, brushing his lips against her forehead. "Generally I'm a fan of you being a little more awake for those sort of plans, though." His teasing gets him the desired effect as her knee connects with his thigh and she opens wide, sleepy eyes to glare at him.

"I do _not_ fall asleep," she huffs, laughter in her voice. "Your fault, trying to get me drunk. You know red wine makes me sleepy." He does know that, and he can't help his answering smirk. "See, you've got that look in your eyes." Preparing dinner had been a lengthy process. He had refused to let her help, but hadn't complained when she hopped up onto the counter with her glass of champagne and kept him company. It did mean that they finished the bottle of champagne quicker than he was expecting, which led to them opening a bottle of her favourite red wine to go with dinner.

Which, ultimately, led to the sleepy version of Kate Beckett in his arms.

He's not quite ready to let her go to sleep just yet though.

"You know, we could always christen that awesome new shower," he murmurs against her ear, delighting in the shiver he gets in response. "Might wake you up a little," he adds, teasing.

"Always trying to get me into bed," she murmurs, stretching up and bracing her hand carefully on the other side of his body to kiss him. She's definitely waking up, and he circles an arm loosely around her waist to keep her there and relaxed and flirting with him like she is. "Besides, I distinctly remember taking a shower this morning," she adds cheekily, her eyes sparkling.

"Not the same," he almost growls, laughing softly as she settles against his chest. "You wouldn't let me_ in_ with you," he adds grumpily, laughing as her smile grows a little further.

"Doesn't change the fact that I already took a shower today," she murmurs, brushing a series of fleeting kisses against his lips.

"I think you're underestimating the importance of cleanliness," he tells her seriously, pausing for a moment as she nuzzles against his ear. "Besides, it has a dual showerhead and like a million different settings, and _gadgets_ Beckett," he adds, excited. It is a really, really cool shower, after all.

"Rich boy," she mocks, light and teasing as she kneels up, extending her hands to him. "And don't call me Beckett when you're trying to get me into bed… or the shower, whatever," she murmurs.

"It has _gadgets_, Kate," he amends quickly, grinning as he sits up, hooking his arms round her waist. "Really, really cool gadgets."

"For the record, _gadgets_," she tells him, all seriousness and sparkling eyes, "not the way into a girl's pants."

"Really?" he asks, because now he actually does have the upper hand. "That's not what you said the other week when I found that toy in your bedside dra– ouch!"

"Shut up and get in the shower before I change my mind."

_tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_Love, you're in pieces, there's no one left to lay you down or say it's okay  
On the worst night, of the worst year, though we might fall we'll go out punching_

* * *

"Kate?"

"Mmmh?" Her voice is a low, exhausted murmur, muffled by the soft pillow her face is buried in. He presses his palm gently against the warm skin of her back and she hums contentedly, stretching out a little more. She doesn't say anything else, and he feels her breathing start to even out again.

"Kate," he calls softly, fighting the urge to laugh as she huffs her discontent.

"What's a girl got to do to get some sleep, Castle?" she mumbles, trying to bat away the hand he uses to brush her hair away from her cheek. "The shower, almost against the wall… the bed, you can't seriously want more?"

"I was just going to say you'll ache in the morning, if you sleep like that," he tells her quietly, moving his hand up to rest over her shoulder. She smiles, catching the fingers at her cheek.

"Mmm, thanks," she offers softly, an apology in her voice as she shifts onto her back and stretches, before rolling over and draping herself over him. She sleeps closer these days, and it's not because she's scared of the nightmares. "God, I think you broke me," she adds contentedly, laughing and continuing quickly when she realises what she's said. "Just… let me have that one? Please?"

"Just this once, but only because you're half asleep," he accedes, wrapping his arms round her. "It was pretty incredible though," he teases lightly, smiling. "I guess that's the… other effect of red wine, huh? When you can stay awake long enough to enjoy it."

"Pretty hard to get any sleep with you around," she teases gently, sliding her fingers slowly into his hair.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," he murmurs, laughing at the answering smile on her face. "Yeah, definitely a compliment."

"Full of yourself, aren't you?" she asks, grinning at him. It's a grin that's soft at the edges though, one she reserves just for him when there's nothing but soft sheets and the moonlight covering them.

"Hey, you weren't complaining against the wall with my fingers–" his words come out muffled as she claps her free hand over his mouth and he laughs, kissing her fingers lightly. "It's true, and you know it," he murmurs. She laughs, and her eyes soften again.

"Can't deny that," she agrees eventually, settling back against him with a lingering kiss. Neither of them have ever denied that what they have is explosive. What he wasn't expecting though, is the amount of gentle intimacy that they haven't even had to work at. Even when it's been tentative and she's been scared, it's still been there. "You're really not going to let me sleep, are you?" she asks, smothering a yawn as she rests her head against his shoulder. Her voice is soft, but there's understanding there. He knows she's exhausted. There are large expanses of the last six months that can be explained away by nothing but sleep, and he's encouraged her to get as much as she can in during the last week.

She's needed to heal, physically and emotionally.

Sometimes he can't let her sleep though. Sometimes, he needs her to be awake and talking and moving. This is one of those moments.

He lets out a breath as she scratches her fingers lightly against his scalp, lets her touch soothe him like it always does. Except, sometimes it doesn't just soothe. Sometimes it sends a kaleidoscope of images flashing around his brain, bouncing off the sounds that reverberate through his mind and make him flinch even though they're not real. Cemeteries and snipers and takedowns and trials and the aftermath, bouncing against glints of light and gunshots and shouting, screams and tears echoing around them all. And the one image that he just can't erase. Her, lying slumped against a wall in yet another abandoned warehouse, blood streaming from a cut on her temple as she tells him that she doesn't think she can move.

It was close. They both know just how close she came.

"Rick?" she asks softly, stilling her fingers against his scalp, flattening them behind his ear until he opens the eyes he didn't realise had slammed shut. "Hey," she whispers softly, her eyes gentle and completely awake as she brushes her fingers against the soft skin right behind his ear. It's how she said _I love you _to him, before she could actually find the words to say it back. He loves it almost as much as he loves hearing the words from her. They started with a touch to his ear, and it might've changed over the months, but it still exists. Her lips touch his in a whisper of a kiss as he starts to relax. "Battle wounds?" she asks softly, and he knows his fingers tense a little on her shoulder at her words. "Don't," she urges softly, taking his hand off her shoulder and tangling their fingers together, tightly. "Please, don't think about it tonight."

* * *

"_Kate!" his voice sounds tortured, even to his own ears. The ground is hard and unrelenting against his knees as he drops beside her, but he doesn't even notice. He can't hear anything, can't see anything, but her. _

_The takedown was brutal, and he knows, he _knows_ that they still don't have enough._

_Not even close. _

"_Kate." He chokes on his breath as she finally opens her eyes. Blood streams from a cut on her temple as she stares at him, her eyes wide and uncomprehending. He can just about make out Ryan and Esposito's voices from the muffled cacophony making his head spin, but their footsteps pounding across the concrete towards him still make him flinch. He sees it in her eyes too, the fear, but she doesn't move. _

_Not an inch. _

_Ryan and Esposito's hands land on his shoulders, hot and heavy, one on each side. He can't hear what they're saying, but he knows what they're doing. Protecting their own. They're cops. The three of them, Beckett, Ryan and Esposito, they will always know how this goes better than he does. _

_She came in here alone. With Jordan Shaw, Marcus Gates and the rest of the FBI agents, but without her team. Without the people who know what she's doing before she starts to do it. Ryan and Esposito were guarding the only exit, and she _made_ him stay outside, which meant that he stayed with the ones with the guns. _

_Standing outside, they heard a sickening sound that turned out to be her taking one hell of a slam against the other side of the nearest wall and all he could think was that he wished he'd tried harder to talk her into staying with him, with them. He had argued with Alexis in the precinct that morning, the worst they've ever argued before, and Kate had been there listening to every word. There had been tears on her cheeks when Alexis stormed out and he finally found it in himself to turn to face his partner. _

_And then she had told him that there was _no way in hell, Castle_, that he was going anywhere near the warehouse they were planning to storm. _

_They had argued, bitterly. The last words they had exchanged before they left the precinct had been in anger, but when she turned to him one more time and told him to stay outside, her voice had been so quiet and Alexis's heartbroken face had been flashing so brightly in his mind and he couldn't find it in himself to put up any more of a fight. _

_So he had stayed, even as she strapped on her vest and followed the FBI in without a backward glance. _

"_Castle, we gotta get out of here, bro," Esposito warns quietly, snapping him out of his flashing memories, and even though his tone is calm and controlled he can tell from the man's posture that he still has one hand on his gun. He can still smell the residue from the recently discharged weapons, and his stomach churns as he prays that no more shots have to be fired before they can get the hell away from this place. _

"_EMT's are outside," Ryan contributes when no one moves, the tremor in his own voice far clearer than Esposito's. Rick is frozen though. Frozen in place by the look in her terrified eyes. _

_Frozen in place until she moves. _

"_Beckett." Esposito crouches beside him, Ryan doing the same on his other side. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that he would be able to see their battle ready grips on their weapons at this point, if he could see anything but her. "Becks. Hey, girl," Esposito continues, his voice quiet and soothing but riddled with tension. _

"_Castle," Ryan hisses, when her eyes don't sway from his for a second. _

"_Kate," he chokes out eventually, feeling Ryan and Esposito's hands steadying his shoulders as he almost pitches forward. "Kate, don't make me carry you again," he says quietly, feeling the boys avert their attention as he finally, finally gets a flicker of acknowledgement from her. "Say something, Kate," he urges, reaching a hand out. "Take my hand, please." _

"_Castle," she gasps out weakly, on lungs that sound like they're barely functioning. _

"_Kate, it's okay," he breathes, laying a hand on her knee. "We got you." _

"_Castle," she manages again, her voice tighter, more panicked. "I don't… I don't think I can move." _

_And then the cacophony of sound starts up again as Ryan and Esposito's panicked calls for help blur into a swirl of noise and sound and colour that all spins around her eyes._

* * *

"Rick," she whispers, and the urgency even in the quietness of her voice that finally breaks through the scene flashing before his eyes also tells him that it's probably not the first time that she's called his name. He shakes his head sharply, trying to get rid of the image of her lying against that wall. She's here. Warm and soft and naked against him, running her fingers through his hair. "Hi, there," she whispers eventually, obviously seeing something change in his eyes. He manages what must be a smile at best in her direction and she lets out a sharp exhale, her worry clear even though she's smiling. "I'm _fine_," she whispers firmly, framing his face with both hands. "I'm here, Rick. I'm moving, I'm doing everything I used to. If I'm not mistaken we just had some pretty energetic sex, more than once," she murmurs softly, and he doesn't miss the way her eyes soften, as they always do when she talks about their sex life. "And you've been at work with me. You've seen me chasing suspects and taking down bad guys. I'm fine," she finishes softly.

He knows she's right, but that's not all.

"I do see all that," he agrees quietly, finding that his voice almost breaks. "But then I see how you can't lift your arms above your shoulders. Or how you can't walk for a day afterward."

She closes her eyes at his words as her fingers slide from his face to his shoulders, and he knows that even though it's the truth, he's hurt her. She _is_ still his fearless, amazing, extraordinary detective, but she's also the woman in his bed with tear tracks on her cheeks as her body doubles in on itself because she's pushed it too far. She has surgery scars and bullet holes, and now muscles and ribs that have taken a hell of a beating that even six months haven't quite healed. Not to mention a shoulder that needed a month of intensive physiotherapy that almost made her pass out from the pain before Gates would even consider letting her back in the field.

He knows how the physiotherapy went first hand, because she was sleeping in his bed by that point.

"And then sometimes I can't walk for a day," she agrees very softly, and he tries to shake the imminent, swooping flashback from his mind when he sees the moisture pooling in her eyes. It is horrifying for him, the flashbacks and the dreams that he doesn't seem to be able to control, but she's the one living it. It shouldn't be her having to comfort _him_ or talk _him_ down.

He shakes his head, opens his mouth to say something and then slams his eyes shut as suddenly she's slumped against the wall again, lights flashing and sirens screaming. He remembers the feel of her knotted, blood stained hair as if it's that beneath his fingers rather than her skin and the soft cotton of his sheets, remembers the smell of that damp, abandoned warehouse that he can almost taste at the back of his throat instead of the calming, relaxing cherry scent that followed her out of the shower. He sucks in a sharp breath, feels her hands on his face again, and eventually hears her voice from a distance as it slowly breaks through the sirens in his mind.

When her tears fall onto his chest, there's something heartbreakingly physical about the sharp, cool moisture that finally snaps him back to the present. She doesn't move her hands to wipe away the tears and something deep inside him feels dangerously close to shattering. It's a familiar feeling, the one that threatens to overtake him every single time this beautiful, guarded woman lets him see her cry.

"Kate," he chokes out eventually, and he isn't surprised to hear that his own voice is hoarse with tears. She presses her fingers into the skin behind his ears, and suddenly he can hear the battle she's fighting to control her breathing.

"Rick please, don't do this," she begs him quietly, dropping her forehead to his. It jolts him, but he revels in the pain, traps her in his arms. "I can't," she sucks her breath in sharply, words lost amid tears and panic and what he now knows is love, and she exhales on a sob as he drops his forehead to her shoulder. She slides her hands, tangles her fingers in his hair. Her fingers are almost bruising against his scalp.

It helps.

"Think about," she starts, but he hears her choke on another sob and he can hear her control slipping, hears the memories and the pain threatening to swallow her too. He moves, slides a hand that's shaking to press into the tightly knotted muscles at the small of her back that he had worked so hard to ease in their shower. Because this is his turn to stand tall. This is what partners do, and as he presses his fingers into her painful muscles, she manages to suck in a breath. "Think about that night, on the roof," she whispers shakily. "Do you remember?"

"I remember," he whispers, reaching his other hand up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "You looked so beautiful."

"I looked a mess," she whispers, smiling through her tears. "Close your eyes," she urges gently. "Forget about everything else, just remember that night on the roof. It was cold," she whispers, and her voice is a calm, soothing balm against his ear. He doesn't know when she got so close, or how she sounds so much like a port in a storm when he can feel the dampness of her tears on her cheeks. "So cold," she whispers, scratching her nails lightly against his scalp. "You dragged all those blankets up and we were still freezing. You said your neighbours looked at you like you were mad for a couple weeks, but the wind was still almost biting," she whispers, and he tightens his hold on her back, remembering the wind like it's whipping her hair against his face as she speaks.

"I kept you warm," he whispers eventually, brushing his lips against her cheek. "You smelt like…jasmine, some kind of flower." She nods in recognition, and he feels her smile against his lips.

"It was Alexis's shower gel," she whispers. "I'd run out. You took my keys the next morning and brought everything in my bathroom back with you." He laughs, because it's entirely true and because most of it hasn't made its way back to her own apartment yet. She had to get another key to her apartment cut too, when he wouldn't relinquish that either. She smells like cherries now, but he remembers vividly how she smelled that night. "You kissed me," she whispers, turning a little more so her lips brush against his. "Do you remember?" He nods and she kisses him again, light and teasing.

He's back there, back on the roof with her too small, shivering body tucked carefully into his arms and the blankets, her lips cool and tentative against his. He kisses her again, moving his arm carefully around her body to avoid the arm that's no longer in a sling, like it was that night. As she breaks the long, lingering kiss and pulls her lips away from his, he realises that the wind isn't whistling around them and she has settled them down in the warmth of the bed, helped him to ease back against the pillows without him even noticing, and oh.

Kate.

Sometimes he forgets that he might base novels on her, this extraordinary muse who is the love of his life, but that she has learnt him inside out too with nothing to show for it but her ability to talk him down. She knew exactly how to replace the terrors in his mind with a memory that engulfed him, appealing to all of his senses. When he writes, he doesn't just see the scene, he smells and tastes and feels it too. He remembers the same things in real life, good or bad. When it's bad, the memories swallow him whole. When it's good, they lift him up and she _knows_. She knows and it makes him fall in love with her even more.

Her thumb brushes against his lips and drags him right back to the present, to this amazing woman. He can't help himself, crushing her in a hug that's too tight for her still fragile body.

"Rick!" she gasps breathlessly, but he can hear a lightness in her voice that wasn't there minutes ago. "Rick, you gotta let me breathe," she whispers, catching her breath slowly as he releases her a little, touching her shoulder gently out of nothing but instinct. Her fingers slowly work their way back into his hair, soothing him in the way that failed earlier.

"Kate," he breathes, faltering before he even begins. His eyes are heavy and her damn fingers are working their magic and there just aren't words for the way he feels about this woman. "I…" she moves one hand, touching her fingers to his lips for a second before stretching over him to turn out the lights.

"Sleep," she whispers softly, tucking herself against his body as her fingers continue their soothing, tingling caress. It takes him longer to open his eyes but when he does she's watching him, gorgeous, wide and sleepy doe-eyes focused so intently on him with an expression that takes his breath away.

As he closes his eyes and succumbs to sleep, he hears her softly whispered, "I love you".

_tbc_


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **I'm so sorry for the delay between chapters – sometimes, real life just gets in the way. After the heartwrencher that was 'Always', I've finally found the time to edit the next chapter. Thank you all for your lovely reviews so far, and I'd love to hear what you think.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

_In the gutter, we are starless and blind to dreams, but we can dream each other  
To a new day, where the good guys always win and heaven still means something_

"Five across," she mumbles around the pen in her mouth the next morning, eyes focused intently on the crossword in front of her as she lifts her mug of tea to her lips and removes the pen in one smooth move. He absently rubs the leg she has slung across his and brushes his lips to her temple as he leans over to read the clue she taps with the nib.

The sun is warm and high in the sky and they have gravitated towards it, sleepy and blinking and completely emotionally strung out as they are. She's a naturally early riser, and while sleeping this late is normal for him, it always leaves her a little bit off kilter. This morning, as dangerously close as it is to being afternoon, it's left her a little clingier than usual, although he knows that's also partly down to the fact that her shoulder is hurting from the awkward position they finally fell asleep in at a little after 5am, which still makes her stay a little closer than usual anyway. Forgoing breakfast with the knowledge that their collective family will want lunch when they arrive, they are nursing oversized mugs of tea instead of their usual morning coffee. Her eyes had softened as she took a deep breath from the steaming mug and looked up at him, confirming his suspicion that she probably didn't have the stomach for coffee, either.

She has relaxed a little as she drinks and tears through the New York Times crossword with speed and accuracy. He normally fights her for it, but this morning he's more than content to just sit with her tucked into his side and her legs slung over his lap, offering his help when she asks. She doesn't ask often, and it's a fact that only makes him fall in love with her a little bit more.

When he feels the end of her pen dig lightly into her stomach he realises he's been thinking for too long, and not about the clue she's still pointing at. He forces himself to focus on the paper, and realises that she's pointing to a really, really easy clue. Not for the first time this morning, and with a small, cheeky grin on her face that he wants to kiss away.

"Are you deliberately giving me all the easy clues?" he asks, affronted.

"Well I already _know_ all the difficult ones, so where's the fun in asking you those?" she asks, and he wants to drink in the smile in her eyes. Leaning forward, he brushes his lips against her nose and she laughs as she tips her head back a little to kiss him, gentle and tender and sweet.

"You're infuriating," he murmurs against her lips, and she laughs, nods quickly and steals a slightly deeper kiss.

"Love me for it though, don'tcha?" she asks, deliberately drawling out the last word until he kisses her again. And he really, really does.

"Katie?" they hear from across the lawn, and he steals another quick kiss from her lips before letting her turn and wave at Jim as he makes his way over to them. He relieves her of the crossword and her mug so she can stand, placing them on the table as she meets her dad at the edge of the deck in a fierce hug. They haven't dressed for their day yet, and she's wearing a well-worn and perfectly fitted pair of yoga pants under the shirt he wore for part of yesterday. The sleeves are rolled up to her elbows with the tails hanging down to mid-thigh, and the sight of her in his clothes still stirs something fiercely masculine and possessive inside him that he tries not to let her see.

Not that it's really appropriate to be staring at her ass with her father in the vicinity, anyway.

Shaking his head sharply, he forces himself to pay attention as Kate starts to speak, still trapped in her dad's arms. They haven't seen one another since she broke down outside the courtroom, and he knows that as much as she needed the time to herself, to _them_selves, she's also needed this. He knows the bond between a father and a daughter after all, and he sees more of himself and Alexis in Kate and Jim than he tells her.

"Hi, Dad," he hears her murmur softly, and his writer's mind completes the scene, imagining from her posture that her hands are fisted tightly in his shirt the way they are when she clings onto him.

"You look tired, Katie," he hears Jim tell her as he pulls away, and he can see concern in her dad's eyes as he lifts a hand to her face. It looks like she leans into the touch, and the simplicity of the gesture squeezes his heart.

"We had a rough night," she tells her father softly, and then she turns eyes that are too dark and too full of emotion to him, looking for confirmation. Standing up, he walks over to place a warm hand on her back, nodding his agreement. They did have a rough night, both waking more than once after she had lulled him to sleep with her fingers and her story, and he doesn't know whether it's the interruptions or the sleeping late or the pain in her shoulder, or something else entirely that has her looking like she's about to fall apart. Keeping his hand against her back, he leans around to give Jim a one armed hug.

"Good to see you," he greets, sweeping a hand to the house. "You found us okay?"

"Your directions were perfect," Jim smiles, taking in the sight before him. "It really is a beautiful house, Rick. Katie's description didn't do it justice. I can see why the two of you have spent so much time out here the last few months."

"Thank you. Kate'll give you a tour later," he offers, getting a slightly tremulous smile and a light smack against his stomach that was his aim all along. The first time he brought her out here she got thoroughly disoriented trying to find her way out of his library. There had been other factors in play at the time, but she smiles at the memory now and that's all he wants. Jim looks amused by their interaction and Rick flashes a grin at the older man, pressing a kiss to Kate's cheek. She turns in his arms a little, snaking both around his waist, and he rubs her back gently.

It's not like her to be this clingy, especially not in front of her dad, and Jim's eyes turn from amused to concerned as he watches. Straightening the shirt on her back, he releases her gently, giving her a gentle nudge toward her father.

"Kate's halfway through the crossword and she keeps giving me all the easy clues," he complains, resting his hands on her shoulders when she hesitates and guiding her gently towards the chairs they were sitting in. "You must have more experience at dealing with that than I do," he adds as Jim lets loose a laugh that confirms his suspicions. Easing his fingers gently into her tense shoulders, he leans down to brush his lips against her hair. "I'm going to grab a shower, give you a bit of time together," he tells them, unashamed in his decision. He suspects that there are things she wants to talk to her father about, and he knows that even now it's easier for her to talk about some things without him around.

She does the same thing for him with Alexis, without even being asked.

Her eyes meet his as she turns to look at him, and he squeezes the fingers she reaches up for a second before pulling away to head inside. He makes his way into the bathroom, taking a moment to admire the sleek and modern but comfortable new design while he waits for the water to warm up. They have already tried out the vast, sunken tub more than once during the week, and he knows now that it was worth the extortionate price tag for the way it relaxed her and gave her the best two nights' sleep she's had all week.

He can't help but wonder how much it would have helped her in the weeks and months after her injury, but he knows that if the last year has taught him anything, it's not to look back.

Rubbing a hand over his face and making a mental note instead to suggest a bath no matter how late they make it to bed tonight, he strips off and climbs into the shower, resting his forehead against the cool tiles for a moment and cursing his writer's brain as it assaults him with yet more memories.

* * *

"_Hey there," he breathes easily as her eyelids flicker before him, taking a couple of deep, replenishing inhales that glue him back together just a little. Until she manages to open those deep, soulful green eyes and struggles to focus on him through the pain and the fear that he's only ever seen once before, the pain and the fear that he prayed he would never have to see again. _

_And then he can't breathe all over again._

"_Ca…stle," she rasps on a gasp of pain that makes the machines in the room go wild for a second. He reaches over, bracing a hand on her other side and brushing her hair off her face gently. _

"_I'm right here, Kate," he breathes, lingering on her name as he feathers his fingers over her cheek until she manages to settle into a shallower rhythm of breathing and the monitors calm. "Hey," he repeats eventually, eyes locking on hers as he fails to stop the smile from crossing his face. Relief. "They gave you some pretty strong painkillers, knocked you out for a few hours," he murmurs in answer to the silent question in her eyes, reaching up to brush her hair off her forehead with gentle fingers. Seconds later, he feels her hand cup his elbow weakly, and watches something akin to wonder cross her pain riddled eyes. Her leg twitches against his arm, and then she's crying, relief and pain and fear and wonder combining in big fat tears that slide down her cheek and trap her breath in her throat._

_The monitors go wild, and he springs into action, cupping her wet cheeks with his hands._

"_The doctors say it was probably something to do with shock. I was a little out of it myself, but I'm pretty sure I got the basics." he whispers softly, swiping her tears away with gentle thumbs. He knows her well enough to know that the only thing that will calm her down is facts, and she's already pulling in a steadier breath with that small piece of knowledge. So he explains, as best he can. "They called it pseudoparalysis, I think," he tells her, moving a hand briefly to brush her hair from where it has fallen on her forehead again. "Your body was pushing its limits already, and that hell of a…" he stops himself suddenly, before he talks her back into panic. "The trauma meant that it just decided to shut down. They tested all your reflexes while you were out and they're fine," he whispers, wiping her tears gently before moving a hand to touch her knee. Her face lights up when she feels his touch, tearful and gorgeous and achingly full of love. _

"_What…?" she asks hoarsely, and he presses gentle fingers to her lips. He doesn't need her to finish her question to know what she's asking._

"_You did a bit of a number on yourself," he tells her softly, trying to keep his voice light. "I lost track of the number of places they said were bruised. Your ribs and your spine mainly, which explains the pain. Doctor said they'll heal with time, but you probably know that better than I do." He gets a hint of a smile for that, and as she tries to lift her hand to his cheek he helps her, covering her shaking fingers with his own. _

"_What aren't you telling me?" she asks quietly, as her eyes fall to the right and take in the strapping and sling on her arm. He swipes his thumb under her eye again gently, nodding slowly. _

"_Your shoulder took the brunt of the impact," he explains, glancing up as the door opens and her doctor slips in quietly. "I'll let the doctor explain, Kate," he breathes, completely and utterly unable to stop himself from leaning down and brushing his lips against hers. Quick. Like a habit. _

_Simple and familiar, just like she told him so many weeks ago in little more than a whisper as they worked on the case in the dead of night that she wished it was. And if the way her eyes seem to melt is any indication, that's one thing that hasn't changed. _

_He lays her hand gently back against the stark white sheets, but keeps a hold of her fingers as he sits back and lets her doctor explain the extent of her injuries. The doctor is young but experienced, calm and reassuring in his manner, and even though she looks shaken to her core by the time he leaves, she doesn't have tears in her eyes. _

"_You let me help you with this," he tells her, quietly but firmly. "No arguments, Kate. I have the money, and you're going to let me help you." Her fingers clench around his as tightly as she can, and he feels tears in his own eyes as she hangs onto him and nods._

_He almost chokes on his own breath, relief and pain and so many memories of that summer slamming back into his mind. Her eyes are closed, and he takes the moment she gives him to compose himself. He knows the similarities to that summer aren't lost on her either, and it feels as if the force of his love for her has slammed into him like it's a physical object, because she's not pushing him away this time. _

_Because this time, he'll get to help her heal. _

"_We still don't have enough, do we?" she whispers into the silence eventually, her voice broken and ragged with knowledge, beaten down and exhausted just like her body._

_He has to close his eyes as he shakes his head._

* * *

The memories linger with him all through his shower, and it's not until he steps back out into the warmth of the sun and she's in his line of sight again that they really start to fade. She has turned her chair sideways to sit a little closer to her dad, and even from this distance he can see the hand she has resting on his chest. She looks tense and uncomfortable, and something aches in his chest all over again as he makes his way towards them.

It's one of the reasons that he brought her out here straight after the trial. She couldn't have coped with the city, and even the people that she loved the most were virtually impossible for her to be around without battling the constant edge of a panic attack. He hadn't been able to bear the thought of watching her struggling, trying to pretend that she was fine when she was anything but.

It feels selfish sometimes, a decision made out of nothing but instinct and the fear he saw in her eyes that took her away from her friends and family, but it's always been different when they're alone and he just wanted nothing more than for her to be able to breathe easily.

He had hoped that the time would give her enough distance from the memories, to look at them all like she still looks at him. The fact that it's clearly still difficult for her breaks his heart a little.

She turns dry if slightly red-rimmed eyes to him when she hears his footsteps and he eases his fingers into her hair, tipping her head back gently so he can kiss her. She relaxes a little with it, moving to rest her cheek against his chest as he stops at her side. Cupping her head gently in his palm, he brushes his thumb against the tender skin at the back of her ear, in time with her slowly calming exhales against his shirt.

She's not big on displaying her affection in front of others, even her family, but there was the smallest hint of vulnerability in her eyes that told him that this is okay. That whatever they were speaking about means she needs it. When he looks up Jim looks concerned and a little hurt at the way that she's all but relaxed against him, but even through that there's something like happiness lingering at the back of her dad's expression as he watches the two of them. Smiling, he turns his attention back to Kate as she grazes the tips of her fingers against his stomach through his shirt.

"Shower's all yours," he murmurs softly, grinning at her. "Still worth every penny."

"Small fortune you mean, rich boy," she mutters, her voice a little hoarse but her final taunt gentle and teasing and for his ears alone as she turns to her dad. "Rick's had the master bedroom and bathroom completely remodelled since we were last out here, he's spent the week evaluating the result."

"And the results have shown that I _do_ have excellent taste. I chose you after all," he points out, grinning as Jim chuckles. Kate swats at his chest, but there's laughter in her eyes as she stands up, lingering in his space for a moment. She's shaking, slightly, and he curls his fingers against her hips to steady her. She reaches a hand up to touch his ear lightly in silent thanks. "Go get a shower," he tells her, brushing his lips against her cheek. "Give me and your dad a chance to catch up, talk about you a little," he teases, raising his eyebrows. She smiles a little but nods quietly, flicking a soft glance to her dad before heading towards the house.

"Jim, can I get you some tea? Coffee?" he asks quietly as she retreats, eyeing the seat Kate vacated for a second but changing his mind before she even reaches the door.

"Coffee would be great, Rick," Jim tells him, tipping a head towards the house knowingly. "And I don't think my daughter would say no to a hug either, while you're in there."

"Affirmative," he answers with a tight smile, turning back to the house. She is leaning against the back of the couch with a hand covering her face when he steps inside, and he makes his way over, leaning quietly next to her until she lets her weight drop against him.

"I thought this was getting better," she murmurs, her voice soft and raspy with frustration as she laces shaky fingers with his. He sighs softly, resting his cheek against her hair.

"We've been on our own all week, remember," he points out softly, stroking the back of her hand gently with his thumb. "And it's never been me."

"It shouldn't _be_ my father in the first place," she snaps quietly, squeezing her eyes shut tightly the second the words leave her mouth. "Sorry," she whispers a second later, gripping his fingers a little tighter. "Sorry. I didn't…"

"Hush," he murmurs, disentangling their fingers to wrap his arms around her. "Just close your eyes for a minute." He feels her nod against his chest and he smiles, easing his fingers against her neck. She takes a couple of tremulous breaths as she gets her thoughts together, her hands trapped between them and fisted against his stomach to stop the slight tremor. Eventually her breathing slows and steadies, and he squeezes the back of her neck gently, feeling the muscles give a little under his touch.

"I hate this," she murmurs eventually, snaking her arms around his waist and holding on tight.

"I know you do," he whispers, sliding his palm down her spine gently before bringing it back up to work gently on her shoulder. Her injured muscles take a little longer to succumb to his touch, but he isn't worried about time when she's starting to relax against him. "You said yourself though, we had a rough night," he murmurs, brushing her hair back from her face so he can speak against her temple, "and it's the first time we've really seen anyone since we came out here." She looks up at that, and her eyes are wide and dark but free from tears. A smile starts to slip across her lips, and he watches, mesmerised.

"You know how much I appreciate us coming out here, right?" she asks softly, the slight tremor in her words and the fact that she's a little more wordy than usual the real lingering signs of her panic. "You need to know that," she adds quietly.

"I know," he murmurs, brushing a kiss against her temple. She sighs softly and returns his kiss with her lips against his jaw, nodding gently.

"I'm really glad it's never you," she whispers, stretching up on her tiptoes to kiss his lips. A smile crosses his lips then, and he slides his hand up to tangle loosely in her hair. He doesn't think he would have coped if it had been him.

That might have been the thing that broke both of them.

"Me too," he breathes when she breaks their surprisingly intense kiss to suck in gentle pants of air against his cheek. "More than you'll ever know." She nods slightly jerkily, catching his lips again in a kiss that leaves him breathless, too.

He doesn't know how long he stands there with her wrapped in his arms, but when he eventually drags his lips from hers they both really do need a moment to catch their breath. Her eyes are dark, sparkling pools when she finally opens them to him, and he brushes her hair off her face again with a smile.

"Go grab a shower," he murmurs, stepping away to head for the kitchen. "Give me a chance to get some more embarrassing childhood stories out of your dad."

Her laughter as she walks through to the bedroom keeps a smile on his face until he steps back out onto the deck and passes Jim a cup of coffee.

"How is my daughter really doing, Rick?" Jim asks, and as he pulls Kate's vacated chair back to its normal position and sits down Rick can see the true extent of his concern and the worry etched on the older man's face. He feels guilty all over again for taking Kate away from the people who have been so worried about her, and even though he knows it was what she needed, it's why he organised today. The fact that the end of their first week happened to fall on the Labor Day weekend had really just been a happy coincidence. Running a hand through his hair and taking a sip of his own mug of tea, he turns his attention back to Jim's question.

"She's doing alright," he answers honestly, rubbing his thumb against the rim of his mug and deciding to ignore the question and dive straight in at the crux. "You know that her reaction isn't any reflection on you, don't you?" he asks. The expression on Jim's face gives him all the answer he needs, but it _hurts_. "She hates it. That's what we were talking about in there just now." Jim nods slowly, and Rick leans over to rest a hand on his arm. "But she's not reacting to _you_, she's reacting to… everything that's happened. And she's reacting to everyone else that she loves, as well. Lanie, the boys…" he sighs, shaking his head. "And I realise that taking her away from you, and from everyone else might not have seemed like a very fair thing to do, but it seemed like the only thing I could do, because her reactions would have been a lot worse than this if we'd stayed. I really think that would have been worse for everyone, even if it seems like I'm just being selfish. And she's… smiling again, Jim. Laughing. She's really laughing and she's goofing around and she's actually sleeping, for the most part, and I don't think that I can apologise for any of that."

"I wouldn't ask you to, Rick," Jim tells him. "And I don't think you've been selfish." He pauses, and Rick sucks in a breath that feels strangely like relief. "Is she really… doing all that?" Jim asks eventually, a smile breaking his lips as Rick nods.

"She is. I would be lying if I told you it was all the time, but she really is."

"I'm glad she's got you," Jim tells him, relaxing back in his seat. "My Katie, she's always been a bit of a solitary one, especially since…" he shakes his head sharply, flicking his eyes up to the sky briefly. "I'm just glad she's realising that it's okay to be happy." Rick nods slowly, finding his own eyes suspiciously moist. There's something about a father's approval, and somehow he thinks he'll look at Alexis's relationships with new eyes. Shaking his head slightly at the just plain scary thought, he offers Jim a smile, settling back into his seat as they lapse into a comfortable silence. He's just pondering the fact that the Hamptons seem to be bestowing their calming effect on Kate's father too, when he poses another, quiet question. "How are _you_ doing, Rick?"

The question doesn't exactly catch him off guard, but he lets out a heavy sigh as he tries to process exactly how he _is_ doing.

"Getting there," he offers eventually, at a loss for more words. "We… really did have a rough night, and that was as much to do with me as her, but we're…" he shrugs, searching his brain for the words, "doing it together?" He laughs then, receiving a slightly bemused look in return. "And I _really _don't mean that the way it sounds. For a writer, you'd think I'd be able to express that a little more eloquently."

"I think in situations like this you're allowed to let your actions speak louder than words, even if it goes against the writer in you," Jim offers with a chuckle. "And for the record, I want to know absolutely nothing about the other inference of those words."

"Dad?" He's still trying to think up a suitable response when Alexis's distinctive voice echoes through the house, and he can't stop the smile that breaks across his face. He's _missed_ his daughter more than he can put into words this week, even though she's been at college for a year now and he's used to her not being around as much these days.

"Out here, pumpkin," he calls, rubbing a hand across his face and turning back to Kate's father. One look at his face tells him that he doesn't need to bother hiding his joy at his daughter's arrival.

"Sometimes I still forget that you know what it's like to have a daughter," Jim comments, his smile now warm and genuine. "Katie tells me you miss her while she's at college?"

"Like I've lost a limb," he agrees readily, grinning against the pain of the words. "I'm not sure what I'd do if Skype didn't exist to be honest," he chuckles, unashamed by his love for his little girl. There's more than recognition in the other man's face, and it stops him from getting up straight away. "You do… know I'm doing everything I can to take good care of yours too, right?" he asks, waving a hand at the way it sounds. If there's anyone who doesn't need to be taken care of its Kate, but he loves that she lets him do it anyway.

"Never had a doubt," Jim tells him quietly, tipping his head towards the house. "Just make sure you let her take care of you, too. Now, go say hi to your daughter." Grinning, Rick all but bounds towards he house with an energy he didn't think he would find today, but by the time he makes it through the doors Kate has beaten him to his daughter and the sight of them hugging stops him in his tracks.

"Richard, darling!" His mother swoops through at that point in her traditional dramatic fashion, and he opens his arms for her. "It's so lovely to see you both," she declares, her eyes flitting over his shoulder, "and Jim, welcome!" Rick laughs, releasing his mother so that she can greet Jim and shrugging slightly as Kate meets his eyes. Maybe his mother can give Jim the tour instead, he muses. Alexis all but slams into him at that point, and he has to close his eyes tightly to stop the overwhelming rush of emotions that hit him at the feel and the smell of his little girl that he knows so well.

"Hi, pumpkin," he mumbles, choked. She clings onto him tightly, and he lifts her off her feet for a moment, laughing through the tears that threaten.

"It's good to see you, dad," she whispers against his chest, and he squeezes her a little tighter, the rest of the room forgotten until Kate lays a gentle hand on his arm. Her eyes are warm when he meets them, and when she smiles and nods a little, he realises that she was just checking that he was okay. The fact that she knew to check in the first place makes his heart beat a little bit faster as he tightens his hold on his daughter even more.

He's always been a family man.

It's just that now, his family is two bigger.

_tbc_


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **thank you again for all the lovely reviews, I'm so glad you're enjoying it and I genuinely love reading what you all think.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

_Love, when you're in pieces  
There's no one left to dry your eyes_

The Hamptons is the perfect place for a party, and as he steps off the deck to lean against the wall next to his daughter, he can't help himself wondering why they haven't all done this before. Slinging an arm around Alexis's shoulders, he smiles a little wider as his gorgeous, wonderful, grown up daughter cuddles up to him like she's still his little girl.

This has always been their spot, whenever they have needed to hide from Martha or from Gina when she was around, but especially when it has just been the two of them. His best memories of the Hamptons will always, always be Alexis growing up here, but he sighs contentedly as he realises that they're really starting to add more favourite memories again. Today will definitely be one, and he's got a few pretty magical ones with Kate, although they're not really appropriate to consider alongside memories of his daughter so he's considering giving them a list of their own.

As if she's reading his mind, which he sometimes seriously thinks she's got the ability to do, Alexis twists in his arms and lays her head against his chest.

"We should do this more often," she murmurs, snaking both arms around his waist. He grins a little wider and drops a kiss on the top of her head.

"We should, pumpkin," he agrees, resting comfortably against her. They have a lot to catch up on, a week of her summer that she's spent in New York without him and stories from her last semester that she still hasn't had the time to tell him, but he can breathe a little easier now with the knowledge that there will be plenty of time for that.

This is their place to rest. To observe, and just be together. Most of the time they're silent, but as a memory rushes through his mind, he can't help letting out a gentle chuckle.

"Remember how we first found this place?" he asks, and she laughs, nodding her head in agreement. She had been… little more than six or seven, and his very own intrepid little adventurer. Conquering the stairs at the side of the deck had been one of her favourite activities, and he still remembers the game of hide and seek when she'd thought that flattening herself against the wall down here would make her invisible.

If he closes his eyes, he can almost remember her shrieks of happiness when he deliberately didn't find her for twenty minutes.

She's been clever since before he can remember, his little girl.

This house is full of happy memories, and he laughs contentedly, tugging her a little closer as he lets her familiar, calming presence and the cheerful sound of his friends and family ease the rest of his tension. Scanning the beach for a moment, he eventually turns his gaze to the sprawling gardens and pool, before settling on the sight of Kate, sitting quietly on the very stairs he had just been reminiscing about.

Close enough for him to see her, although he knows she will be unable to see them in their slightly obscured position that made this their perfect hiding spot in the first place.

"How is she doing?" Alexis asks quietly, tilting her head up to see him. He smiles, kissing her forehead and mentally adding perceptive to the never ending list of words to describe the wonderful woman he's raised.

"She's doing a lot better," he tells her, resting his chin back on her head as he considers his words. "It's not been easy, but we're getting there."

"She hugged me this morning," Alexis comments and he doesn't have to see her to know that she's got a shy, happy smile on her face. Their relationship had been strained for a long time after Kate's shooting and even more so after all their secrets came spilling out, and while he doesn't doubt that Alexis is happy for them, he also knows that she's had this vision of what her life would be like once he met the woman he really would spend the rest of his life with.

He knows that near death experiences, serious injuries and a good dose of FBI involvement didn't really play a part.

Humming his agreement to his daughter's statement, eyes still trained on Kate, he feels tears spring to his eyes when Alexis speaks again. "I liked it," she whispers against his chest, and he has to take a couple of deep breaths before he can answer her.

"I liked seeing it," he tells her quietly, smiling as she looks up at him with eyes so full of hope that he thinks that maybe, even though it might not have had the most conventional of starts, this might be pretty close to what she's been imagining for so long.

"Do you want to go and see her?" Alexis asks quietly, gesturing to Kate before returning her arms to their position around his waist. He considers her question for a moment. She doesn't look sad. A little anxious, maybe contemplative, but he knows her warning signs better than anyone and she doesn't look on edge, or on the verge of a panic attack. This is the most people she's been around since the trial ended, and he knows it's probably just a bit much for her.

He's on the verge of reluctantly untangling himself from his daughter to go and check when he sees Kate rub a hand across her face, but then he spots Ryan and Esposito ambling across the lawn in her direction, beers in hand, and he relaxes.

If there's anyone he trusts with her, they're right in front of him.

"I think she'll be fine," he murmurs, nudging his daughter's attention to the two detectives. They're the perfect distance away to hear their conversation, and as Ryan and Esposito's respective greetings ring clearly across the space between them, he relaxes even more and lets himself enjoy his daughter's company.

"Yo!"

"Hey, girl." Rick has to fight a laugh as Esposito counters Ryan's terrible imitation with his own effortless greeting. They drop down to a stair on either side of Kate, and he doesn't miss the way that Ryan touches her knee and Esposito rests a hand on her good shoulder. Gestures that he knows are intended to ground her, because he has his own. The boys have been there with her for almost as much as he has, and he knows that the strength of the bond between the three detectives means they understand just as well as he does. They're almost like siblings now, although he grins slightly at the picture that paints.

Alexis glances up at him when he jostles her slightly, and he shakes his head slightly, chuckling.

"Just… thinking that they're kind of like siblings," he tells her, gesturing to the three detectives. Alexis studies them for a while, then laughs too.

"That's a disturbing little family right there," she agrees, rolling her eyes at him.

"Ridiculously good looking, though," he murmurs, more to himself than Alexis, even though he receives an elbow in the stomach for it. Laughing, he turns his attention back to the conversation wafting over from the stairs when he hears Kate laugh too. The sound is free and easy, and it eases something inside him. Ryan looks a little red in the face, and it only takes him a few seconds to realise what Esposito must be teasing him about.

"Gotta hurry up and come back, Becks," he hears Esposito say, tugging her toward him a little as Ryan pouts on her other side. "While honey milk here turns into a puddle of mush over his firstborn it'll be just you and me, girl."

"And Castle," the father-to-be chimes in helpfully, arms folded defiantly over his chest even though the excitement in his eyes is clear for anyone to see. Jenny, six months pregnant and stunning with it, has been the talk of the afternoon. He even caught Esposito with a hand on her stomach earlier, because Ryan had been adamant that the baby would kick for his Uncle Javi.

"And Castle," Kate is agreeing, and he can see her turning to flash a grin at Ryan. "Maybe Gates can be your partner while Kevin's gone, Javi," she suggests cheekily. Something in her tone warms his heart even as Esposito scowls at her and mutters something in Spanish that both his fellow detectives seem to understand and find funny, so he can only assume is something rude. He hasn't been worried about what would happen when Ryan was on paternity leave, but it helps to hear her say it. He knows how well she and Esposito work together and it had been in the back of his mind that he might be a third wheel. He's distracted from his thoughts when he hears Kate speak again. "Besides, can't you see how happy he is?" she's asking Esposito, her tone teasing but sincere.

"Look at her!" Ryan protests, smiling widely. "Who wouldn't be over the moon?"

Even Esposito doesn't seem to have an argument for that, and Rick has to grin, because that baby doesn't know how lucky he or she is going to be, with an Aunt and Uncle as fierce as those two detectives right there.

"He's going to make a great dad, isn't he?" Alexis asks, nudging his attention back to her with a smile. He nods, shaking his head slightly.

"That child is going to be ridiculously spoilt," he muses, shaking his head slightly.

"And that's just from you," his daughter counters, raising an eyebrow. He has to laugh at that, hugging her tighter. "But with those three as role models, that child definitely _will_ be the one on the playground that the other kids won't dare to mess with," she adds, making him laugh a little more. She's definitely his daughter, through and through. "Who do you think will be the first to teach the kid self-defence moves?" she asks, grinning up at him.

"Kate," they answer in unison a few seconds later, laughing at one another. Running his fingers through her hair, he rests his chin on top of her head and looks out over the ocean.

It's breezy down by the water, and a few flyaway strands of his daughter's hair plaster across his cheeks as the breeze picks up a little. It's been a surprisingly warm day for September so the wind is warm as it hits his face, but there's something about the feel of it and the fact that he's been listening to Kate talking to Ryan and Esposito that's a trigger he doesn't know how to break for one of those memories, and even the feel of Alexis in his arms can't quite stop his mind from sinking back into a scene that's embedded in his memory.

* * *

_The wind is fierce and biting, carrying with it the foreshadowing sting of icy rain as it whistles across the deserted lot. Kate stumbles back slightly, battered and bruised and barely able to stand as she is. He steadies her with his hands on her hips because he doesn't trust himself to touch her anywhere else, and wishes she had something more than the oversized NYPD fleece hoodie, zipped awkwardly around her slender frame because there's little else she actually can wear. _

_Ryan and Esposito stand strong on either side of her, head to toe in black with weapons drawn and ready. _

_Her boys. _

_She had tears in her eyes when they told her they were her protection tonight, even though Jordan Shaw has been true to her word and their team has been involved in every single move that the case has required._

_And this? This is the big one. _

_This is the takedown. _

_This is the end, even if the decision to hand the case that has gotten her shot and almost left her paralysed over to the FBI was quite literally taken out of her hands. _

_Her right arm is still in a sling, with extra padding around the shoulder that leaves her in agony whenever she tries to move it. The Kevlar vest (the one that the boys silently tore apart and modified earlier that afternoon to accommodate her shoulder and presented to her with twin glares that said 'you _will_ wear this') covers ribs that are still badly bruised and surgery scars that are angry and tender, and even though he knows that the pain is crippling, this is the end and this is her one stipulation. If she can't end it herself, she will be here to see it end._

_This is her stand._

_And by definition, this is his stand. This is Ryan's stand, and this is Esposito's stand. _

_Police lights flash all around them, strobing through the night sky with their eerie blue and red hues as the FBI lead the men responsible for the case that has shaped almost everything about her out of the building in front of them._

_She stumbles again, this time with absolutely nothing to do with the wind, and he tightens his hold on her hips, the only place on her body that he knows isn't badly bruised. _

_Stepping a little closer, he lets his chest come within a whisper of her back, leans forward just a little so he can speak to her without even Ryan and Esposito hearing. _

"_You can lean against me," he offers quietly, the words barely a whisper against her ear. She doesn't react, doesn't give him any indication that she's heard him. Her eyes don't stray for a second._

_But then she moves, so slightly that he would have missed it if he were standing any further away from her, but the movement is enough to bring her back in contact with his chest. Enough to let him take some of her weight. _

_Enough to let him stand with her. _

_And he doesn't care about the scene in front of him any more, because all he cares about is this woman barely holding herself together as everything she knows comes to an end. _

_Almost as quickly as it began it's over, and it's strangely anticlimactic watching the cruisers and FBI vehicles disappear into the night, taking the noise and the lights away with them until they're the only ones left. Ryan and Esposito step over to Jordan Shaw, Captain Gates and her husband (whom he's taken to calling Mrs Gates just to get a rise out of her and the boys), and it really is just the two of them._

"_Kate," he breathes softly into the silence, when she makes no move toward or away from him. She sucks a breath in at her name, broken and ragged with the tears he knows she won't let out. She shakes her head then, a sharp, forced movement that drags a sharp cry of pain from her lips as it shoots pain through her shoulder. It hurts him in a way that he knows she's not quite ready to deal with yet, but it also eases his soul in a way that makes him hate himself and reassures him that she's still in there all at once. _

_His hand shakes as he raises it to barely cover the padding over her shoulder, and he hears the choke of the sob she barely holds back._

"_You don't need to say anything," he tells her quietly, breathing slowly with her until she can suck in a breath that doesn't shudder pain through her torn muscles. "Let's get out of here, back to the precinct," he continues, soft and calm. Somewhere you can sit down, rest a little, he thinks to himself, but doesn't say out loud._

_That's not his place. Not yet. _

_Later, when he finds her curled in the corner of the couch in the break room, looking like she wants to make herself small enough to disappear with pain in her eyes and tears on her cheeks, that's his place. And so he sits on the floor with his back against the couch until she rests shaky fingers on his shoulder and asks him to take her home. To take her to _his_ home, because that's where she's staying. _

_It's also his place once he takes her home and she tells him that she doesn't want to sleep alone. It's not how he ever thought the first night that she spent in his bed would go, but they manage to find a position that doesn't hurt her and she sleeps without nightmares even though he doesn't sleep a wink, and somehow it's more perfect than anything he imagined it would be. _

* * *

"Hey, dad?" Alexis asks, tearing his attention away from his memories and back to the feel of his daughter in his arms. She's looking up at him, concern in her eyes. "I'm gonna go… join them," she tells him, gesturing to the game that he hasn't even noticed is starting up on the beach. Ryan and Esposito are jogging across the sand towards the young kids and their fathers, and Alexis extricates herself from his arms, keeping hold of his hands. "Just, one thing?"

"Yeah, pumpkin?" he asks, shaking his head a little to get rid of the lingering images.

"However lucky that child is going to be?" she asks, smiling slowly. "He or she is never going to have a dad as great as I do." She presses a kiss to his cheek, grinning widely at him as she lets go of his hands. "Love you, dad!" she calls over her shoulder, setting off at a gentle jog down onto the beach. Swiping a hand across his eyes, it occurs to him that he's lost track of Kate, but when he opens his eyes she's stood a few feet from him, her smile gentle and her eyes tender.

He realises that the concern he saw in Alexis's eyes means that his daughter must have noticed her standing there, because she wouldn't have run off so quickly otherwise.

"Raised yourself a pretty amazing daughter there," Kate tells him softly, holding a hand out as she crosses the distance between them. "Haven't seen you much this afternoon," she adds softly, smiling a little more as he catches her fingers and tugs her in for an easy kiss.

"Spending a little time with my amazing daughter," he murmurs against her lips, before turning her around in his arms so she's leaning back against his chest and his chin rests on her shoulder.

"I was following the boys down, and I heard voices," she tells him, tugging his arms into a loose circle round her waist. She doesn't ask what he was thinking about (because he _knows_ that she's not blind enough to have missed it), and he's grateful for it because she might be smiling and relaxing into his arms, but he can tell that the day is taking its toll on her. There's a tension lingering under her easy movements and a slight hesitance in some of her words, coupled with the fact that she seems to want to keep him close when he's nearby that makes him want to help her stay as calm as possible.

Talking about the memory that stopped him in his tracks won't help her today.

"Found our hiding spot," he tells her easily, stretching round a little to kiss her cheek. "You joining them?" he asks, nodding towards the beach. She shakes her head, settling back against him.

"Think I'm good here," she murmurs, lacing her fingers through his on her stomach. He can tell from the way she's leaning her left shoulder against him slightly more than her right that she's still in a fair bit of pain, and he's more than happy that she's keeping him company instead of joining the game on the beach. "Besides, it sounds like there's a story behind your hiding spot?" she poses, and he doesn't have to see her face to tell that, even if it might be a distraction technique, she's smiling. She's long since stopped hiding the fact that she finds the father in him attractive. "Shut up," she murmurs before he can speak, making him laugh and press his lips to her neck.

She seems to be developing a little more of that mind reading skill that Alexis has every day.

She lets out a soft hum of arousal as he sucks lightly at the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder, and he tightens his arms around her a little more in response.

"Good father or not, give me a hickey with all these people around and I _will_ hurt you," she murmurs, elbowing him lightly. He chuckles, easing back to rest his chin on her shoulder again.

"How're you doing?" he asks softly, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand as she shrugs her shoulder against his chin a little. Her silence tells him everything, and he hugs her a little closer. He wants to ask if she wants him to stick a little closer to her for the rest of the afternoon, but he knows that it goes against every independent streak in her body and whilst she might let go of that shield while they're alone, he knows that it would make having everyone around that much harder. He also knows that if he just sticks closer anyway, she'll figure it out in a second.

She is a detective, after all.

"You're thinking very loudly," she murmurs, resting her head back against his shoulder. "I'm guessing, about how you want to protect me or something equally cave man," she muses, turning to the side a little so she can raise an eyebrow at him. He suspects that he probably looks more than a little guilty.

"You women and your mind reading skills," he mutters, stealing a kiss from her before she settles back against his chest, laughing softly.

"I appreciate it," she tells him after a moment, eyes fixed on the game on the beach. "Actually, I kind of like it…"

"Just not today?"

"Just not today," she confirms, falling silent against him for a moment. "Tell anyone I said that and I'll shoot you," she murmurs eventually, laughing. She hasn't really answered his question, but he knows that sometimes letting the happiness take over is a better medicine than talking it out, especially for her, and so for now he's quite happy to stand here quietly with her. Closing his eyes, he breathes in the familiar scent of her shampoo and the hint of perfume that tickles his nose. "Quit smelling me," she murmurs softly, amusement clear in her words as she nudges his face away from her hair. "It's creepy."

"Don't smell so alluring then," he counters, and she starts to laugh as he realises what he's said. "Wait, can I take that back?"

"Mmm, suppose so," she murmurs, gripping his wrist lightly as she laughs.

"You know, ever since we closed that serial killer case I've always been rooting for the two of you to find a happy ending." They're still laughing when Jordan Shaw's distinctive voice interrupts them, and he can't do anything but smile at the FBI agent as she walks over. "When I saw the two of you at the trial, and then you extended this cryptic little invitation of yours Rick, I had my suspicions, but it wasn't really the time." He tightens his arms around Kate a little as she nods her agreement, but Jordan just smiles. "I'm glad I was right."

"So are we," he offers, grinning a little as Kate nods her agreement. When they first told people about their relationship she had been incredibly uncomfortable, but now she's starting to accept people's congratulations with an elegant grace that he's only ever seen in her.

"I'm still not entirely convinced that you weren't sleeping together at the time," Jordan comments, in that matter of fact but teasing tone she masters so well. "Especially when I got around to reading those Nikki Heat books of yours." He expects Kate to tense up a little at the implication on her words, but she handles it effortlessly with a soft laugh and a shake of her head.

"All his overactive imagination," she demurs, digging a discrete elbow into his stomach because they've had this argument time and time again. He chuckles, rubbing a thumb against her stomach where he's eased it just under the dipped hem of her light pink shirt and getting thoroughly distracted by the soft, supple skin he finds.

"You have a lovely family, Jordan," Kate is saying when he clears his head of thoughts of what he's going to do to her when he gets her alone and finally tunes back into the conversation, clueless to what he's missed since Jordan's comment about their sex life. Kate knows his runaway writers brain well enough by now to know that it's a pretty regular occurrence, and she feels pretty relaxed in his arms so he's comfortable that he hasn't missed anything he should be helping her though.

"Thank you," Jordan says, looking over at the rowdy game on the beach, in which her daughter is centre stage. "She's giving your Detective Ryan a good test run from the looks of things," she adds, laughing. "Do they know if it's a boy or a girl yet?"

"They want to be surprised," Kate tells her, shaking her head. "Or rather, Jenny does. Ryan's just so happy he'll go along with whatever she decides. Javi's threatened to get a search warrant for their doctor's office," she adds, raising a hand to her mouth to ward off her laughter. "He's desperate to know. Don't tell him I told you, but I think he might actually be more excited than Kevin is." Jordan laughs at that, and Rick takes his chances, pressing a quick kiss to Kate's cheek as she lets her own laughter out, because she's relaxed enough to stay in his arms while talking to Jordan and he knows that she's just as excited as Javier is, and he just plain wants to kiss her.

"I'm glad you managed to un-complicate things, Kate," Jordan says, slightly cryptically if you ask him, but Kate just laughs again. "I'm going to make sure my daughter isn't causing trouble," she adds, heading off down to the beach.

"Un-complicate things?" he asks, the second Kate turns around in his arms. She laughs and taps his nose in that way she has of saying _you're nosy_. "Come on, Kate," he all but whines. She laughs again, kissing him on the lips this time.

"Don't you have meat to cook?" she asks, deliberately giving it a macho spin as she cocks an eyebrow towards his admittedly rather over the top barbeque.

"Fine," he grouches, taking a glance at his watch. "But you're telling me later." She laughs softly, brushing a feather-light kiss to his lips.

"Be a good boy and I might do more than just tell you a story tonight."

"Katherine Beckett," he admonishes, his grin threatening to split his face, "with all your family and friends in the house…"

She just tosses a laugh over her shoulder, already walking down to the beach to observe the game from a better vantage point. He can't help but stand there rooted to the spot, watching her walk away with a delicate swing to her denim clad hips.

Because this right here? _This_ is the woman he's fallen in love with.

_tbc._


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **again, thank you so much for the lovely feedback from the last chapter. I hope everyone's still enjoying this, and I'd love to know your thoughts on the latest instalment - it's time for a little Lanie, I think!

* * *

**Chapter Five**

_Even when you fall apart, I'll pick up your bloodstained heart  
And darling I'll follow you down to the ground_

The light has long faded by the time the Labor Day fireworks start up around the shore. He is leaning against the glass doors, comfortably full of what he feels is some excellently barbequed food and filled with a sense of content that he knows only comes from having the people you love and care about the most around you. Someone, Kate and Alexis he suspects, has hooked up an iPhone to his outdoor speakers, letting an eclectic playlist of music filter along the deck. He can hear pockets of conversation and laughter mixing with the sounds of an impromptu poker game that he's considering joining, if he can convince Kate to do the same.

Poker is no fun without her. More fun when it's _just_ with her (and sometimes without all their clothes), but he'll take what's on offer.

The first set of fireworks look like a professional display, loud and dramatic and incredibly beautiful, and a hush falls over the deck as all eyes are suddenly turned upward. There's something tugging at the back of his mind about the fact that he decided _not _to do fireworks this year, but it takes the slamming of a door to his right to finally jog his memory, and he curses under his breath because how could he forget.

Kate.

He said no fireworks because of Kate.

Lanie materialises at his side as he curses under his breath, doing a quick scan of the deck. He can read the concern in her eyes as she tips her head towards the door he heard slam. She doesn't need to say anything, because he can read her _this one's yours, writer boy_ in her eyes. Squeezing her arm quickly, he takes off for the door, easing it open quietly but making sure he closes it audibly enough to announce his presence.

The fireworks sound duller in here, but when he hears her choke back a sob as she struggles to control her breathing, he wishes for all he's worth that he had the super powers he needs to stop them in their soaring tracks.

"Kate," he whispers, crossing the room dropping to his knees at the side of the couch without checking that she's there. This isn't the first panic attack they've worked through in this house, for her or for him.

Even with the light tan she's picked up her face is deathly pale, marred with tear tracks as she curls into herself, arms wrapped around her knees to tuck herself a little further into the alcove that took him _far_ too long to find the first time around. He's glad that Alexis never found it when she was growing up, because he's not sure he would have survived that.

"Kate, I'm sorry," he murmurs softly, curling his fingers very gently around her bare ankle. He can see how badly her hands are shaking as she tries to hold onto her legs so he doesn't go for her fingers, but he knows that as much as she flinches under his touch, she needs to be touched. Needs _him_ to touch her. He knows it's how to bring her out of it, but that doesn't mean that it hurts him any less.

Another angry, excited round of fireworks goes off outside and she jerks violently, sobbing painfully with the movement and the fear as she flicks wild, frightened eyes around the room, darting past him a few times before she finally manages to settle her gaze on him; wide, dark pools of nothing but every emotion she's been feeling on display for him to see. He rubs slow, rhythmic circles on her ankle with his thumb, gives her a warm smile as her breathing hitches slightly.

She manages to suck in a shallow breath eventually, and he relaxes a little and sits down on the floor in front of her, squeezing her ankle reassuringly. Another startlingly loud firework explodes from what sounds like just outside, and he feels her panic flare as she jerks her ankle out of his hand, eyes flying wildly around the room. The firework leads into what sounds like another display and he moves without thinking, rocking forward on his knees. His intention is to cover her ears and try to dull the noise but he looms over her as a result and she all but cowers, lost in the panic. She doesn't kick out at him like she's done before, but that only tells him that she's deeper into the panic than he thought, freezing her limbs and leaving her all but helpless.

"Kate, sweetheart," he breathes, stilling his movements. "Kate, I gotta cover your ears baby," he murmurs, the endearments slipping out instinctively as gently brings his hands up and over her ears. She lets out what he can only describe as a whimper as it dulls the sound a little, and then she's a blur of movement and slamming into his body, hands fisting the back of his shirt as tightly as she can. He keeps his hands over her ears so he knows that she can't hear him properly, but he keeps whispering nonsensical, calming words as he presses his cheek against her hair. She's crying and shaking almost violently, an awkward tangle of limbs in his lap as she tries to make herself as small as possible.

It's a protective instinct, he knows that now. Loud, sudden noises trigger her PTSD from the shooting, manifesting themselves in panic attacks that she has absolutely no control over. Bright glints or flashes of light do the same. Fireworks combine all of the above.

Something hurts deeper inside than he would like to admit when he thinks about all the times she had to cope with this on her own. She's told him some of the worst of it, and he remembers whispering a promise in the dead of night that he would do everything in his power to never make her cope on her own again.

He knows from his own personal experience now just how debilitating they can be.

He's lucky in that his are usually triggered by nightmares or bad memories. They're nowhere near as bad as hers and he knows that they'll fade with time, but they still leave him feeling wrecked for hours after. Hers can linger for days, and more often than not she manages to do some harm to her too tender shoulder in the process.

Large crowds of people have developed into another trigger for her, since the trial. He knows it's situational and he hopes that it'll go away with time, but it's why he was so desperate to get her out of the city. He's been so relieved that she's coped with the relative crowd of people in his house today that he let his guard down on the others. Forgot that fireworks tick all the boxes just because there's a relative crowd of people to deal with too.

Stroking his thumb gently over the sensitive shell of her ear as another burst of fireworks fill the sky and make her flinch in his arms, he moves as carefully as possible to try and get them both comfortable, settling in for the long haul of firework displays. Closing his eyes against her hair, the memories of just over a week ago flash through his mind as she shakes in his arms.

* * *

"_We, the jury, find the defendant guilty as charged on all counts." _

_A ripple of shocked, exultant silence extends throughout the courtroom. Then it's like the courtroom erupts in a cacophony of sound, managing to entirely mask the sound of Kate bolting from the room with the back of her hand pressed to her mouth. He's out of his seat before anyone else can react, and the sound of the judge calling for order in the courtroom vaguely registers in the back of his mind as he runs from the room._

_He identifies the twin footfalls behind him as Ryan and Esposito without needing to waste a backward glance, and he pushes on down the corridor towards the door she has left swinging. He can hear the stumbling, uneven thudding of her heels in front of him, and it matches the pounding of his heart. He catches up to her just as she pushes frantically on the heavy doors of the courtroom and everything is a blur of flashing light bulbs and animated shouting and _so_ many reporters that even _he's_ a little bit blindsided. _

"_Detective Beckett, have they reached a verdict?" _

"_Guilty or not guilty?" _

"_How did it feel to look your mother's murderer in the eye?"_

"_Mr Castle! How much of this will feature in your next book?" _

_The questions are flung at them from all angles, and he has to dart forward to catch her as she almost falls. Turning her easily in his arms, he blocks the media's view of her, shielding her face with a hand as she trembles against him. Ryan and Esposito step out in front of him, badges drawn as they clear a threatening path through the reporters volleying out an excited cacophony of questions about their relationship status. He murmurs nonsense against her ear as he guides her down the stairs and out of the crowd, but she breaks out of his arms on a sob as soon as they are free from the journalists, her breathing jagged and uneven as she takes off at a stumbling run around the latest corner. _

_The three of them run after her as one, but he feels Ryan and Esposito fall back behind him as they round the corner. He slows his own movements as he nears her, and he glances back to see the boys have stopped at the corner, ready to fend off any journalists who thought it wise to follow them. _

_Ever her protectors. _

_Esposito gives him a swift nod, eyes narrowed a little. He knows it means _look after her_, and he nods back, before dropping to a crouch in front of Kate. Back against the wall, she's sitting on the floor, knees up to her chest as her whole body shakes with the force of her sobs and her panic. Her arm jerks out automatically to fight him off when he touches her arm, and her eyes are wild and unfocused when he calls her name softly. _

_He's about to move back a little, confused and a bit hurt, when her hand shoots out, gripping the lapel of his suit jacket fiercely enough to crease it. He eases closer to her after a moment, sliding a hand carefully against the back of her neck when she doesn't resist and drawing her into his arms. She whimpers painfully as her shoulder makes contact with his body, and she's shaking and trembling so badly while her tears soak his shirt, that he struggles to drop awkwardly to his knees and reposition her in his arms to ease the pressure on her shoulder. Holding her carefully against him, he whispers everything and nothing and I love you against her ear while she tries to fight off the panic attack. _

_When she's breathing a little steadier and her tears feel less fierce, he risks a glance over his shoulder. Ryan and Esposito have been joined by Jim and Lanie, and he can see the tears on Kate's best friend's cheeks as she stands in the circle of Esposito's arms. _

_Jim is the first to notice him looking over, and he nods carefully, gesturing for the older man to come over. Lanie moves the second Jim does, shaking off Esposito's attempts to hold her back. The boys halve the distance between them as Jim and Lanie approach, and he turns his attention back to Kate, easing her back enough to brush away the tears under her eyes with gentle fingers. She drops her gaze almost immediately, and he leans forward to press a kiss to her forehead. _

"_Your dad's here," he murmurs quietly, feeling her grip his jacket a little tighter, "and Lanie," he adds quietly. "Ryan and Esposito are doing their tough cop act just over there as well." She laughs a little at that, a tearful giggle that tears at his heart. She cowers against him a little at the sound of footsteps, and he eases his fingers down a little to the top of her spine, trying to hold her a little tighter without hurting her. He knows her shoulder is still too freshly healed for what she's just put her body through, and she sucks in a sharp breath as he lays his other hand gently over her shoulder, relaxing almost instantly as the warmth of his palm seeps into her painful muscles. _

"_Katie," he hears Jim speak quietly, and it breaks his heart to feel her trying to hide from her own father. _

"_It's just the panic attack talking." Lanie is crying too as she speaks, but when he looks up she's hugging Jim and doing her best to reassure him. That's when he makes a split second decision, whispering his idea into Kate's hair. _

"_Lets go to the Hamptons." _

* * *

By the time he manages to bring himself out of memories so vivid he can almost feel the heat of his suit against his skin and the restrictiveness of the tie around his neck, the fireworks seem to have come to an end. He has no idea how much time has passed, but Kate is resting heavily against him now, and he can feel her shallow exhales against his shoulder. Easing his hands away from her ears, he smiles gently as she lifts her head a little to look at him, struck instantly by the thought that even with tears still sliding down her cheeks, she's stunningly beautiful.

"Hey there, beautiful," he murmurs, voicing the words as he brushes the tears from her cheeks, getting a wonderful, tearful smile in response.

"Told you before," she whispers, her voice hoarse and shaky, "those cheesy lines ain't gonna work on me." He laughs softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she rests her head back against his shoulder. She feels exhausted and he sighs softly, lifting his hand to rest lightly on her shoulder. She lets out a gentle hum against his neck, which morphs into a groan of pain when he explores the area gently with his fingertips. "Ouch," she mumbles softly against his skin, making him chuckle softly.

The panic attacks break his heart every time, but there's always something about the moments afterward that bring them just a little bit closer.

"Do you think you've pulled something, or just bruised it a little?" he asks softly, stilling his hand on her shoulder again and letting her settle.

"Don't know," she answers eventually, her words slow and cautious as she sucks in shallow breaths. "Just bruised, I think?" she tells him eventually, more of a question than a statement. "Mm, keep your hand there," she whispers eventually, uncurling her legs enough to hook them over his own. He rests his free hand on her left calf, gently starting to ease her seized up muscles.

"Tinted windows, remember?" he murmurs against her ear when her eyes stray over to the floor to ceiling windows that look out onto the party they've left. He had the windows tinted for Alexis when she was growing up, but he doesn't think he's ever been more grateful for them. Nodding slightly, she lets them lapse into silence again, and he can feel her concentrating on her breathing, counting the inhales and exhales until she can manage to breathe a little deeper. He moves his attention to her other leg, knowing she'll need to stand at some point.

If he's honest he can't wait to just fall into bed with her and hold her until she's ready to close her eyes. The day has taken its toll on them both, and he suspects they'll get another broken night's sleep as they work through the dredges of her panic attack. Brushing his lips against her forehead, he sighs again and turns his attention to their friends and family through the glass.

They seem to be coping fine in their absence, split into stereotypical male and female groups, with the exception of both his mother and Captain Gates, who are occupying seats at the boys' impromptu poker game. The rest of the women, including Jordan Shaw with her daughter asleep in her lap, seem to be discussing Jenny's impending motherhood.

"Did you call me baby?" Kate asks out of the blue, drawing his attention back to her as she lifts a hand to card gently through his hair. He closes his eyes with her ministrations, feeling a smile cross his lips as he runs what he said through his mind.

"Guilty as charged," he answers, chuckling as she drops her fingers to rub lightly against his ear.

"Don't do it again," she murmurs, although they both know the falsity of her threat. She might battle him on the terms of endearment at every available opportunity, but he's felt the shiver that runs through her body when he whispers them against her ear in bed.

Secretly, she's a total relationship girl, pet names and all.

"Feel like trying to stand?" he asks softly, when she stretches her legs a little further. She nods quietly, and he eases out from beneath her, lifting himself up before offering her his hand. She stumbles a little as he helps her up, but catches her balance quite easily, laying a hand on his forearm. He can't help himself from leaning over to press a light kiss against her lips, and when she smiles brightly at him he can't help doing it again. She laughs softly and snakes her arms loosely around his waist, keeping them there as she lets him steer her through to the kitchen.

By the time she's lifted herself onto a stool, he's placing a glass of juice in front of her and is treated to another one of her little smiles as she wraps both hands around the glass.

"Sugar, I know," she murmurs before he can say anything, lifting the glass to her lips and drinking slowly. She's set him up too brilliantly though, and he can't help the words that trip off his tongue.

"And I thought you didn't like pet names?"

* * *

They linger in the kitchen for another thirty minutes until she's ready to go back outside, and when they do he has a hand at her back, guiding her through the door. Her movements are a little slow, lacking her normal confident detective stride, and he can feel a slight tremble through her body as she moves.

Normally, they would curl up on the couch or in bed, or maybe take a hot bath, and if the party feels a little alien for him, it reminds him again just how extraordinary Kate is. She pulled a loose shirt on over her tank top when she couldn't stop shivering, and he rubs the soft cotton covering her arms gently.

"Okay?" he murmurs softly against her ear, smiling when she twists her head a little to glance at him and nod. There's honesty in her eyes, and he squeezes her gently before reaching down to catch her hand. She tangles her fingers loosely through his, flashing him another one of those smiles that melt his heart. This is the one time that she lets him be a little protective, and although he knows that she needs a little bit of comfort as she recovers (and she's told him before that she likes it too), he knows it's just as much for his benefit.

She knows that it's not easy to watch.

To everyone's credit they get little more than a few looks and smiles as they walk back out, and his heart leaps a little when Lanie catches Kate's eye, casually patting the empty seat next to her. She doesn't let go of his hand so he follows her over, easing himself onto the arm of her chair and finding himself unable to hide a smile as she leans gently against his thigh. Smoothing her hair gently behind her ear, he settles his fingers over her shoulder. It feels a little swollen, and he tries to remember where he left the painkillers the last time they were here.

"Scoot, Castle," Lanie teases light-heartedly, grinning at him from their little all-female circle, although there's no real fire in her eyes when he looks up. "Go join the poker game," she adds, eyebrow raised. Jenny laughs, rubbing a hand over her swollen belly.

"Yeah this is girl talk, Rick," she agrees, flashing a grin in his daughter's direction that he _knows_ speaks about something that he just doesn't want to know about. Alexis laughs and nods her agreement, but there's a definite pink tinge to her cheeks and he clenches his fist involuntarily. It's the hand that's resting against the painful muscles of Kate's shoulder, but she still reaches her hand up carefully to close her fingers over his.

"Leave him be," she's murmuring softly, and he's so proud of the cheeky little tone that's in her voice even after the panic attack she just endured that he can't even take offence at the dig he knows is coming. "You know he can speak girl better than any of us."

"She's got a point, dad," Alexis agrees instantly, her grin wide as she smiles at Kate. "What was it you used to call him Kate, Mr Mom?" she asks, eyes flashing with amusement. He accepts the laughter of the group graciously, carefully easing Kate's hand down into a more comfortable position.

"Don't think I don't know that you're changing the subject, pumpkin," he shoots back, smirking as his daughter blushes even more than before. "Just because you two have got this freaky ganging up on me thing going on, he adds, gesturing between her and Kate, "doesn't mean I can't still read you like a book."

"Oh leave the poor girl alone, Castle," Lanie cuts in, grinning at Alexis. "There are some things a father just doesn't need to know about," she adds, throwing one of her signature looks his way. He summons up a glare, but he knows exactly what she's doing by steering the conversation, and he can't bring himself to look too mad. Kate's laughing softly at the exchange though, so when Alexis looks at him, cheeks flushed but with a question in her eyes that he recognises as _is Kate okay?_ he nods subtly.

Jenny has picked up the conversation and is relating a story from her childhood, and Alexis flicks her eyes off to the side as the conversation resumes around them. Following her gaze, he instantly finds the concerned eyes of Jim Beckett and nods slightly at Kate's father, communicating a silent thank you to his daughter before encouraging Kate to move enough that he can lean down and speak against her ear.

"You know _exactly_ what they're teasing my daughter about, don't you?" he murmurs, delighting in the shiver that runs through her tense body as his lips brush her ear. The connection between them always seems to be a little bit stronger when they make it out the other side of a panic attack, and he can't make himself be grateful for it but there's a part of him that loves that it brings them closer rather than tearing them a little further apart. She says nothing in response to his question, which he takes to mean he's spot on the money. "I'll get it out of you later," he murmurs lightly, sliding his fingers carefully back up to her shoulder as she laughs softly. She winces slightly as his fingers settle, and he murmurs an apology in her ear before continuing. "You know, your dad hasn't stopped looking at us since we came back out. Speaking as a father, I'm pretty sure he could do with a hug from his daughter."

She turns those wide eyes up to him at his suggestion and he runs his fingers gently through her hair, grateful that Lanie is still leading a somewhat raucous conversation to keep the attention off them. He's not surprised that Kate's calm, joking front hasn't fooled her best friend. He's normally the only one around as she tries to recover, and he can feel the anxiety rolling off her in waves.

"I'll be right here," he murmurs softly, pressing his fingers gently against the top of his spine. She nods very slowly, pressing her cheek against his stomach for a moment before moving. He's already reconsidering his decision as she lifts herself stiffly out of the chair, fighting the urge to pull her back and refuse to let her go because he _knows_ as a father that her dad needs this too.

Slumping into her chair and watching carefully as she picks her way across the deck and into her father's waiting arms, he startles slightly at the feel of Lanie's hand on her arm. She's smiling warmly when he turns towards her, and tips her head towards Kate and Jim.

"Nice thing you just did there," she offers in that distinctive drawl, and he accepts the compliment with a nod. "Scale of one to ten, how much are you dying to run over there and take her right back?"

"Off the chart," he mutters without thinking, flashing her a wry smile.

"I was going to ask you how my girl's doing, but I think I might start with how you're doing," Lanie continues perceptively, raising an eyebrow at him. "And don't you even think about dodging the question writer boy, I've known you long enough to know when you're lying."

"It's been a stressful day for both of us," he tells her. "Please don't think that in any way I mean that we don't want you all here, though. I think it was what everyone needed, it's just been a little challenging."

"Answering for the both of you gets you extra points from the best friend," Lanie acknowledges softly, smiling at him. "Didn't exactly answer my question though."

"We're getting there," he tells her softly, raising a shoulder slightly as he searches for the right words.

"Answering for the both of you twice just makes you a suck up," Lanie challenges, grinning.

"My apologies," he murmurs, laughing at the look on her face.

"If I can be serious for a moment," she counters, raising an eyebrow. He nods, settling back in his chair. There's something in the tone she voices her joke with that makes him listen. "I've never seen her as happy in a relationship as she is with you," she tells him. "I think you know that I had my concerns when you whisked her away after the trial, but I can see now that it's been good for her."

"Lanie," he starts, feeling guilty all over again at the look in her eyes. She seems to read that quickly, and shakes her head sharply.

"I'm not trying to guilt trip you here Castle, I'm saying that you had the right idea in hindsight. It just wasn't easy for the rest of us that you got to be here with her when we didn't." He nods slowly, memories of that lonely summer after she got shot flashing through his mind. It's long since forgiven, but he's not above admitting that the memory still hurts. There's a flash of guilt in Lanie's eyes too when he looks up, and she smiles apologetically. "I know you know how that feels Castle, I'm sorry."

"And I'm sorry for taking her away from you this week."

"Honestly, seeing how she reacted to fireworks?" Lanie says, worry etched over her face, "I think you were bang on the money. The city would have been overwhelming for her."

"She's doing okay, Lanie," he murmurs softly, glancing across the deck to find her still wrapped in her father's arms, her face hidden slightly in his shoulder. His heart eases a little at the image, and he turns back to Lanie. "I promise," he adds, taking in her sceptical expression.

"She hurt herself just now, didn't she?" Lanie asks quietly. He nods slowly, glancing back over at Kate and Jim for a moment. "Panic attack?" she asks, resting a hand on his arm gently.

"Yeah," he breathes, shaking his head slightly. "I deliberately didn't buy fireworks for tonight because of them, but I just… forgot about all the other displays." Lanie nods slowly, and he's glad he doesn't have to explain any further. She's the only other person that's ever really been around for one of the panic attacks, and he can see the painful memory in her eyes. "She's a trooper though," he murmurs, smiling. "Look at her." Lanie nods and laughs softly, turning her gaze to Kate. If there are tears in her eyes as she watches them, he won't comment.

"I'm glad it's you, Castle," she murmurs eventually, and he's more than a little stunned by the approval in her eyes. "You marry her one day, okay?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

_You hit me like a subway train, and I will never be the same  
And darling I'll follow you down to the ground_

* * *

It's blissfully, peacefully silent.

That's his first thought as he steps out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, and it puts a smile on his face. It was actually one of the key factors in his decision to put the master bedroom out of the way on the ground floor. Tucked behind the library (which is arguably the quietest room in the house) like a little haven, all he has to do is close the doors and it feels like there isn't another soul around.

Even with the double doors open onto the balcony and the curtains blowing in the breeze, there's still a sense of calm descending across the room.

The night is warm and balmy but the combination of the light breeze and the lingering moisture on his skin makes him shiver. It's a pleasant sensation and he lingers for a moment until he's dry. From the empty room and open doors he assumes that Kate is outside, and he wanders over to the dresser, shucking his towel where he stands and pulling on a pair of boxers, allowing himself a little grin at the fact that she _hates_ when he leaves wet towels on the floor.

He had been planning on (and looking forward to) hopping into a warm bath with her, but she'd slipped away when he was faced with the task of showing everyone to their bedrooms, and by the time he had stopped to spend a moment with his adorably sleepy daughter, Kate was sitting on the bed wrapped in a towel, cherry scented moisturiser in hand.

She tends to cling to routine after panic attacks, and he had leant down to press a kiss to her upturned lips before making his own way into the bathroom and the cloud of steam she had left behind.

The bath could wait until they were alone again, after all.

Running a hand through his damp hair to get rid of the worst of the moisture, he steps through the doors and out onto the balcony. The view over the ocean is beautiful, but it's nothing compared to the sight of her.

His shirt stops mid-thigh, and he finds himself transfixed by the sight of her long legs. Her hair falls over her shoulders in long, damp waves, and she's left the sleeves hanging down over her hands tonight. Normally, the sight of her in his clothes so late at night draws a fierce arousal out of him and has him dragging her into his bed and removing said clothes from her body. Tonight, it sparks nothing but love, mixed with a little bit of pride because what she's just done amazes him.

She spent most of the last hour out on the deck sitting by his side with her body turned into his and her face tucked just behind her shoulder as the real after effects of her panic attack made themselves known. Most of the conversation had passed her by, but her fingers had played out a gentle pattern against the side of his thigh and he couldn't help but find her utterly adorable.

"Is this going to become a nightly thing? You watching me?" she asks softly, and he realises that he has been so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice her turning to face him. She looks tired but her voice is relaxed and soft as she holds a hand out to him. Smiling, he obliges, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist as she turns back to lean on the railing, letting out a gentle sigh.

"Almost feels like no one's here ,right?" he murmurs, brushing her hair away from her neck so that he can trail a path of kisses over her skin. She shivers a little at his ministrations, and he snakes his arms a little further around her. "I put the master bedroom here deliberately," he murmurs softly, gesturing to the view. "Private, peaceful, best view in the house… but I spent the first five summers out here sleeping upstairs so that Alexis wasn't too far away." She laughs softly, letting the sound slip into a contented moan as he sucks lightly on the spot where her neck meets her shoulder.

"You do know that using stories of your parenting skills isn't the only way to seduce me, right?" she murmurs softly, tangling her fingers through his on the railing. He chuckles softly, pressing his lips to that spot again.

"Not trying," he murmurs, making her shiver as his breath hits her skin. The tension in her body is palpable, and he nuzzles a little closer. "Can I ask you something?" he asks softly, smiling as she nods her response. "Do you think I did the right thing, bringing you out here?"

The question has been playing on his mind since his conversation with Lanie and the look in her father's eyes as his daughter had cuddled up next to him. There must be something in his tone that she recognises, because she twists and turns in his arms, leaning up to brush a kiss against his jaw as her fingers curl around his cheek.

"Absolutely," she whispers, lips grazing his jaw with a light nip of teeth as she speaks. There's something raw in her voice that sends a shiver through him, and he rests his hand carefully over her shoulder, noticing she's kept that arm at her side. She flinches a little less at his touch, which he knows is down to the healing properties of a hot shower, and curls the fingers of that hand at his waist. "What makes you ask that?" she asks softly, tipping her head back enough to be able to look at him.

"Lanie, and your dad… the boys," he murmurs softly, shaking his head. "I took you away from them." He leaves the rest of his sentence unsaid, and she nuzzles her nose lightly against his ear as she understands what he's not saying.

"This is the same as that summer, in a lot of ways," she tells him softly. "I know that it's been hard for them all, but I wouldn't have coped in the city. Then or now. Somehow, you knew exactly what I needed, and I won't apologise to any of them for that," she continues, pressing a kiss to his lips. He knows the truth in her words. She has apologised him for what the summer after her shooting did to him, but she has never apologised for actually doing what she did. "You can't feel bad because this time you got to be here," she whispers, brushing her thumb gently underneath his eyes.

"It was hard, hearing Lanie describe it," he tells her. "I felt like I was selfish because I didn't think about them. I wanted you all to myself."

"I wanted _you_ all to myself as well," she tells him quietly. "Do you have any idea how guilty I felt talking to Alexis earlier?"

"Kate," he breathes, fingers tightening instinctively on her shoulder. She flinches, squeezing her eyes shut for a second as the pain flashes through her muscles. "Sorry," he breathes, easing his fingers back to a gentler caress. She nods, keeping her eyes closed for a moment until she can open them without tears. "Sorry," he whispers again, against her lips this time. She eases her head down to rest against his shoulder, another shiver working its way through her body. He wants to finish their conversation before he takes her to bed, though. "Alexis understands," he whispers, his lips against her hair now. She nods, fingers of both hands now curled around his waist.

"I know she does," she murmurs, her voice slightly muffled against his chest. "Your daughter's pretty amazing like that, but it doesn't make me feel any better for taking her father away when she's actually home for the summer."

"She said she might stay for a bit if we stay another week," he tells her, his heart warming completely when she smiles against his chest.

"I'd like that," she whispers, something in her voice easing. Whether it's at the knowledge of his daughter staying or the fact that she doesn't have to go back to the city he knows she's not ready to face, he's not sure, and there's something in the ease of her words that makes him not want to mention it. And with that he grins, suddenly spotting his opportunity to get the inside scoop on his daughter that he's apparently missed out on.

"Only if you tell me what her gossip is," he murmurs, nudging her gently with his hip.

"Richard Castle, you know your daughter and you _know_ that she will come to you," she warns quietly, laughter in her voice as she eases away from his embrace to level a glare on him. It's hopelessly ineffective, and he laughs softly. "It's boy stuff," she murmurs. "Remember the Ashley stuff? Only her daddy's advice is gonna do when it really counts." He puffs his chest out in pride at the truth in her words, and she laughs, slapping his chest lightly before letting him catch her hand.

"Bedtime," he murmurs, drawing her gently towards the door. She comes willingly, and when he's closed the doors she has a beautiful, coy smile on her face.

"Thought you weren't trying to seduce me," she whispers, quirking an eyebrow as she laughs with him. "Pretty smooth moves, if you ask me." He knows that it's another one of their routines that she's clinging to, and he laughs softly, drawing her into his arms.

"When have I ever needed smooth moves with you?" he murmurs, voice low and affectionate and surprisingly hoarse. She laughs almost indignantly, fingers curling around his ear and threatening to tug before slipping into the gentle caress he loves so much.

"I guess you're right," she whispers, kissing him softly with a gentle grin. "Normally you're anything but smooth." Neither of them would deny that there's something inherently physical about their relationship, but there's no intent in either of their words tonight. Sex is hugely important to them, and he's not ashamed to admit it. They probably have more than the average couple, but they work in a profession and have lived through a personal situation that seems to leave them needing something life affirming.

Add to that the fact that the sex is nothing short of electric, and you've got more than a recipe for success. And it works, _so_ well.

"Get that dirty look off your face," she murmurs, brushing a light, teasing kiss across his lips. He laughs, keeping the kiss soft and gentle. The reason that this thing between them works so well is that they both seem to know when sex is right and when it's not.

Tonight, with the lingering effects of a panic attack and the general tension of the day, is a night for whispered I love you's and cuddles in the dark, not that she would ever admit to being a cuddler, rather than sex that brings them both to their knees.

That will come, of course. Just not tonight.

Sighing softly, he draws her back into his arms, closing his eyes against her hair. "I love you," he breathes, as her arms snake around his waist again in a silent response. He likes it when she shows him her response rather than simply telling him. He's a writer, after all. _I love you_, and _I love you too_ has always struck him as a little too clichéd. There's a time and a place, of course, but the feel of her fingers, gentle and caring against the small of his back is all that he needs sometimes. "Fancy a massage?" he asks into the silence, fingers playing gently over her shoulder and eliciting a gentle groan in response. She lifts her head from his chest, the want openly displayed in her eyes.

"Then I really _could_ love you forever," she murmurs, her eyes not even going wide at the implication of her words.

And as he guides her over to the bed, easing his shirt off her shoulders and feeling the silky softness of her skin and the painful tension in her muscles beneath his fingers, the strong lines of her thighs against his as he straddles her legs, Lanie's words are ringing through his mind, over and over.

_You marry her one day, okay?_

Now isn't the right time, not by a long shot. But he has every intention of living up to Lanie's expectation, and suddenly he's struck with the knowledge of exactly how _one day_ will go.

He knows exactly when and where he is going to ask this woman to marry him.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__we're wrapping up here. Just the epilogue to go. Thank you so much for reading, I really hope you've enjoyed it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. As always, I would love to know what you think._


	7. Epilogue

**Epilogue (on the best night of the best year)**

**One year on**

She stands by the railing at the edge of the balcony. Her face is turned up to the sky, watching the Labour Day fireworks light up the sky. He can almost imagine, even from a distance, the way colours are reflecting and bouncing off the ring on her left hand, where it rests against the railing.

It makes him grin like a fool.

She is clad in an intoxicating mix of luxurious cream silk and the softest navy blue lace he's ever touched, and he doesn't think she's ever looked more beautiful. Her hair is tumbling over her shoulders in luscious waves that scream of a day spent in his bed, igniting a fierce desire that curls through his body. Her sheer robe barely hits the back of her thighs, and does more than hint at the lingerie he can see underneath.

They're only here for the Labour Day weekend this year, not a patch on the three weeks they ended up spending out here last year, but if he didn't think he could fall in love with her any more than last year he knows he's proven himself spectacularly wrong in only one day.

The tears on her cheeks when she answered him quite literally took his breath away.

"The fireworks are beautiful from out here," she murmurs softly, turning to face him with a beautiful grin that tells him she knows exactly how long he's been watching her for. He steps out onto the balcony, and she turns to face him just as his hands find purchase on her waist, thumbs running along the delicate lace of her underwear. Her muscles bunch and shiver beneath his hands, and she nips a kiss against his jaw as her lips curl into a smile.

"The view certainly is beautiful," he murmurs, grinning as she actually giggles against his jaw, her eyes wide and soft and laughing at him as she studies him.

Fireworks be damned, he'd rather watch her any day.

Fireworks.

"You're not scared this year," he whispers a second later, the realisation hitting him like a train as she lets out a soft, calm breath against his skin. Shaking her head, she stretches on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his. She doesn't linger long, but she's still smiling at him when she drops back down to her normal height.

"I'm not scared this year," she agrees softly, her eyes shining as she slides her hands up his arms, curling her fingers delicately over his shoulders. She's accepted over the course of the year that her shoulder will probably never heal completely, but they've discovered that there are plenty of ways to adapt. Curling her fingers over his shoulders or around his neck if she keeps her arms low doesn't cause her any pain, and they've learnt to make it feel just as intimate as hooking her arms around his neck might do. They never really got to do that in the first place, which he thinks actually makes it easier, in a way. You can't miss what you've never had, so they say.

The diamond sparkling delicately on her finger catches the corner of his gaze, and he watches for a moment as the colour changes slightly with every explosion of fireworks, his heart feeling like it might burst.

She's not scared. And she can't stop staring at the ring, either.

Her cheeks are slightly flushed when she finally moves her gaze back to his, and she flashes him a grin that makes him want to drag her right back to bed when she's only just convinced him to let her out.

"So," he murmurs eventually, letting his fingers slide along the lace of her underwear and delighting in the shiver he feels as he flattens his palm against her stomach. "Fan of fireworks?" he asks, laughing as she takes a moment to focus on his question. He's not the only one who spaces out in conversations now, although he does have to resort to slightly underhand tactics to even the playing field.

"Fan of you," she whispers, and he knows she's deflecting the question but she's humming softly as she presses her lips beneath his ear and he can't quite bring himself to care. He also can't stop the groan that escapes his lips, and she laughs softly against his ear. "So… easy," she whispers slowly, her lips pressing into a grin against her skin that almost undoes him all over again.

"I'll show you easy," he all but growls, pinning her back against the railing behind her and catching her lips in a searing kiss that leaves them both breathless when she finally drags her lips from his and lets out a soft whimper. He cards his fingers lightly through her hair as she catches her breath, gentling his touch as she eases her weight against him.

"We're spending more than two minutes out of bed," she warns, a hint of breathlessness in the back of her voice that drags him back to her lips for more. "Rick!" she laughs softly, pushing gently on his chest. "I'm serious," she murmurs, laughing. And she does sort of have a point.

Their relationship has only got more physical as the year has passed, if he's honest. There was a part of him that had expected that initial heady desire to just be a honeymoon period, figuring that would eventually fizzle out and settle into something a little more normal (not that he's ever _really_ been a fan of normal). If anything though, he wants her more than before.

And it's electric. _Every_ time.

"I know you're avoiding the question, by the way," he murmurs softly, clearing his brain and pressing a softer kiss to her lips.

"Avoiding? Me?" she hums softly, amusement in her voice as her eyes dance a little. He can't help himself laughing, sliding one hand up to cup the back of her skull gently. She tilts her head back a little and he watches her consider his question. "I don't think I'll ever really be a fan of fireworks, not after last year," she offers gently, her fingers moving from his shoulder to drag lightly against his jaw, graze over his bottom lip and linger there as she speaks. "This is a pretty spectacular memory to start replacing those with, though," she whispers.

In this relationship, _he's_ meant to be the one with the words. He's the writer. He knows how to talk her down after a panic attack. How to talk her to sleep. How to talk her up into a frenzy of arousal.

She talks more with touch. Simple, intimate little gestures that tell him she loves him better than her words ever could. But sometimes, just sometimes, she manages to talk him speechless.

This would be one of those times.

"You know, this is the point where I'd usually take you back to bed," he murmurs eventually, his voice a little raw as his fingers graze seductively over the sensitive skin of her hips. She shivers and bats his hands away, eyes darkening into the best glare she can muster when she's as well and truly undone as she is tonight.

"Shut up," she murmurs, brushing her lips to his and completely contradicting her words. "We were having a moment."

"I don't think anything could ruin this moment," he whispers against her lips.

He's known since that night a year ago that this is where he would propose, but it took him until they arrived last night and he came out of the (still amazing) bathroom to find her curled up in his bed to figure out how he would actually do it.

Suddenly, there had seemed like no other option.

"And if you use the phrase 'I proposed in bed' to _any_one tomorrow," she's warning him suddenly, reading his mind like she's getting so very, very good at. Her tone is menacing, but the heat is absolutely missing from her eyes. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to her lips.

"Are you asking me to lie to our family and friends?"

"Yes," she laughs, cutting her eyes to the ring on her finger. "Yes, I'm asking you to lie, because I swear to God if those words leave your lips you'll have more than my father and your daughter's reactions to worry about." He shudders at the mention of his daughter, and she raises an eyebrow in a silent challenge because yeah, his daughter and the implication of sex in the same sentence still gives him the creeps and she _knows_ it.

"Well, I _did_ wake you up with a ring," he murmurs, a smile crossing his face as her expression softens completely and she brushes a kiss against his jaw. Despite her heavy detective schedule, he's learnt that she's notoriously hard to wake up whenever they're in the Hamptons, and so he woke her up this morning with his fingers curling gently around her ear and an open ring box in his other hand.

"It was pretty special," she whispers, dropping a lingering kiss to his lips before continuing, "but there's a difference between that and suggesting that we were having sex at the time."

"So I can say that?" he grins, lips hovering over hers as she laughs at the look on his face, "I can tell them I woke you up with a ring?"

"Yeah, you can say that," she agrees on a whisper, taking the kiss he offers as he all but lifts her off her feet. Her laughter rings out as he spins her around, leaving her clutching onto his arms as he sets her back on her feet. He's leaning against the railing now, and she tucks herself into his arms, fingers playing gently over his bare chest as he skims a palm along her spine, where he knows she's most sensitive. "Play fair," she murmurs, arching into his touch a little and nipping at his jaw in warning. He laughs softly, stilling his hand when he reaches the small of her back. "Mm," she hums softly, stretching up to brush a kiss against his lips. "Love you."

He slides his arms round her properly at that, all but crushing her against his chest. She lets out a sharp huff of air but only moves to free her arms from where they're trapped between them.

It's overwhelming how much he loves her, sometimes.

The last year has been nothing short of incredible, even as they worked through the aftermath of what was undeniably one of the worst years of their lives. Tightening his arms around her a little more, he rests his chin against her shoulder and takes a deep breath filled with the ocean, the sea breeze and her.

His fiancée.

Fiancée. Wow.

_That_ one hasn't quite sunk in yet.

"God, I love you too," he breathes eventually, when he feels like he can get the words out steady. He feels her smile against his neck, squeezing at his shoulders with gentle fingers.

"Enough to let me breathe?" she murmurs, her voice lighter as she bumps a hip lightly against his to get a little space. "Where'd you go there?" she asks softly, bringing her fingers up to cup his cheek.

"Just… good places," he reassures her, catching her lips gently with his. She smiles into the kiss, bumping her hip into his again as she tries to see the look on this face. Her soft laughter confirms his suspicions about what she must find. "Just remember, you cried more than me today," he whispers against her cheek, making her laugh a little more.

"Doesn't change the fact that you're still the girl in this relationship," she shoots back instantly, kissing his cheek before nudging his hip a bit more firmly, twisting a little in his arms as the fireworks start up again. Rubbing her arms gently as a shiver slips through her body, her brushes his lips against her ear.

"You're my _fiancée_," he murmurs eventually, chuckling as she shivers for something entirely unrelated to the breeze swirling around them. "That's where I went."

"…how did that happen?" she whispers after a second, her voice as soft and incredulous as his thoughts had been. He chuckles softly, and really, she's just set him up too good to pass up.

"Well, I woke you up with a ring," he murmurs, laughing as she swats at him, "asked you a question and you said yes. He catches both of her wrists easily, so she can't get him again. "You never make it that easy," he offers in explanation.

"Smartass," she mutters, managing to elbow him gently anyway.

"So are you looking forward to seeing everyone tomorrow?" he asks softly, quitting while he's ahead. Letting go of her hands as she nods, he slides his fingers around her hips to hold her a little tighter.

"Wait a minute," she murmurs eventually, realisation in her eyes as she turns properly to look at him. "Are they all going to be _expecting_ a ring? I _knew_ it was too convenient that they all couldn't come out until tomorrow!" He laughs at that, curling his fingers around her left hand as her eyes sparkle in what he knows is an attempt at indignation.

"I can't believe you didn't figure it out until now to be honest," he murmurs, grinning as he leans down to kiss the skin beneath her ring.

"Some of those excuses _were_ pretty contrived," she murmurs, flicking at his fingers lightly, "but you were promising me a weekend of sun and sex, which, I know, you delivered on," she interrupts herself, smirking at him, "so I guess I didn't think about it too much. That doesn't answer my question, though," she continues instantly, her voice demanding. "Are they all going to be expecting a ring?" He laughs, brushing his thumb across said ring as he considers her question.

"Family, yes," he murmurs without hesitation. "Friends? Probably suspicious. They are de-tec-tives after all," he adds, enunciating the word like they so often do when they want to mock him. "And Lanie's just plain nosy," he risks, laughing at the fire in her eyes. "I bet she's like a magpie with jewellery." She goes for his ear then, pretending to tweak it.

"You realise best friends are as good as in-laws, right?" she murmurs, flicking his ear lightly before curling her fingers against the sensitive skin.

"How is that going to differ from normal?" he murmurs cheekily, laughing as she moves to flick his ear again. There's no power in the gesture, and she raises an eyebrow at him in challenge. "I already find her in my bed after the odd poker game, how much closer could we get?"

"Isn't that every man's fantasy?" she shoots back slyly, her voice low and seductive, "two women in his bed?"

"What I find you two doing in my bed is hardly the stuff of fantasies, babe," he returns, chuckling softly and dipping his head to whisper in her ear as she moves to try to hurt him again, for the name _and_ the comment. "Besides, there's only ever one woman in _my_ fantasies."

"Good save," she murmurs after a _long_ moment, catching his lips in a kiss that's deep and full of promise. When she pulls away she's panting slightly, her lips red and parted. "I'm surprised you didn't talk to Lanie actually," she murmurs, her eyes sliding back down to her hand. "About the ring, I mean. You got it _so_ right."

He grins at that, allowing himself a little moment of pride. The ring is delicate and elegant. A single princess cut diamond in a sleek platinum setting, it's all smooth lines and sparkle, fitting snugly against her finger. It's practical and understated, but somehow you can't keep your eyes off it.

He didn't _quite_ do it alone, though.

"Alexis helped me," he confesses eventually, brushing his thumb over the ring and watching as she blinks a couple of times, realisation dawning.

"I thought that conversation was about her and _Matt_," she splutters, laughing. He doesn't like thinking about his daughter and marriage either, but he lets that one go at the look of wonder in her eyes. "Are you sure she doesn't want to become a detective?"

"Positive," he mutters without hesitation, voice teasing but serious. She raises an eyebrow in a silent challenge and he grins at her in defeat. That's a battle he knows he won't win. "And don't talk about my daughter and marriage in the same sentence."

"You brought it up first," she counters, laughing against his lips as she kisses him.

"What, by proposing?" he asks, grinning. He feels like he hasn't stopped smiling since he slid the ring on her finger, even during the downright un-repeatable things she did to him earlier that day that left him with absolutely no control over his body.

"Get your mind out of the gutter," she whispers, but she's kissing him in a way that tells him to do the exact opposite, and where's the fun in that anyway?

"How about you and that sinfully sexy lingerie get back in my bed instead," he all but growls against her ear, delighting in the shiver that runs through her body.

He knew they wouldn't last long out here.

"Our bed," she whispers, her voice hoarse and her teeth nipping at his earlobe as she pushes him back towards the door. "I believe it's your go," she murmurs, eyes sparkling in anticipation.

"Oh it most certainly is," he murmurs, catching her hands in his as they step through the sheer, gauzy curtains that flutter around their over-sensitive skin. They're one of her additions to the room, and he had absolutely no idea how seductive they would turn out to be. Pushing the doors shut behind her and crowding her back against the curtains and the glass, he almost feels her stomach drop. "And I intend to pin you to _our_ bed," he tells her, deliberately emphasising the ownership as he lets his fingers trail down over her bare stomach to catch her lace clad hips and pull her snugly against him. She shivers sharply, grazing her teeth against his neck on a hum as she all but falls into him. "And do so many unspeakable things to you that you'll be begging me to stop," he murmurs, feeling more than hearing her moan against his neck.

"Never gonna happen," she whispers, but her voice is shaky and he _knows_ she's not talking about the sex. Smiling softly, he brushes his fingers against her cheek.

"Happy?" he asks softly, catching her hands and leading her into the room. Her smile is wide and dazzling and aroused, and spectacularly just for him as she nods. She crowds into his back when he turns round to avoid backing into the bed, her laughter soft against his shoulder as she smiles a little more.

"Smooth moves," she whispers, the knowing smirk on her lips as she hooks her fingers into the waistband of his boxers telling him that she's knowingly referencing a conversation they had in this very room a year ago. "And to answer your question, ridiculously, stupidly happy," she whispers, peeking out from behind his shoulder to get a look at their proximity to the bed. "Champagne?" she asks softly.

"This time we really are celebrating something, baby," he murmurs, grinning widely with the cheesy line and the memory as she tugs on his arm and flips him easily onto his back on the bed.

"Don't call me baby," she all but growls, crawling over to straddle his hips and shrugging the robe off her shoulders in one smooth move before her lips meet his in a searing kiss.

"Champagne?" he gasps eventually, even though he's flipped her onto her back and is well and truly in the middle of ridding her of her senses and not really that keen to stop.

As it turns out, neither is she.

"Champagne can wait," she murmurs into his ear, voice low and seductive and just about perfect. "I can think of other ways to celebrate."

And as it turns out? The best night of the best year can only get better.

_fin._

_**Author's Note: **__well, this is the end. Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed and enjoyed. I've loved hearing what you think, and the story has been a lot of fun to write. I really would love to hear what you think of the epilogue! _


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